By a spell more serene than the dim necromantic
⁠Dead charms of the past and the night,
Or the terror that lurked in the noon to make frantic
Where Etna takes shape from the limbs of gigantic
⁠Dead gods disanointed of might,

The spirit made one with the spirit whose breath
⁠Makes noon in the woodland sublime
Abides as entranced in a presence that saith
Things loftier than life and serener than death,
⁠Triumphant and silent as time.

Pine Ridge: September 1893