When the lyrical quality is unalloyed the effect is impress ive. So in his ‘Blanche McCarthy,’ now published for the first time:
Look in the terrible mirror of the sky And not in this dead glass,
which can reflect Only the surfaces - the bending arm, The leaning shoulder and the searching eye. Look in the terrible mirror of the sky. Oh, bend against the invisible: and lean To symbols of descending night; and search The glare of revelations going by! Look in the terrible mirror of the sky. See how the absent moon waits in a glade. O f your dark self, and how the wings of stars, Upward, from unimagined coverts, fly.