The Frontier

At the hushed brink of twilight,—when, as thoughSome solemn journeying phantom paused to layAn ominous finger on the awestruck day,Earth holds her breath till that great presence go,—A moment comes of visionary glow,Pendulous 'twixt the gold hour and the grey,Lovelier than these, more eloquent than theyOf memory, foresight, and life's ebb and flow.

So have I known, in some fair woman's face,While viewless yet was Time's more gross imprint,The first, faint, hesitant, elusive hintOf that invasion of the vandal yearsSeem deeper beauty than youth's cloudless grace,Wake subtler dreams, and touch me nigh to tears.