Passion Flowers (Watson)/In Distant Arcadie

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In Distant Arcadie.
I gaze upon the far, far lightThat glorifies the fragrant night,Where still and calm, serene and high,The moon drifts in an azure sky.And o'er my soul, so wistful grown,There steals the thought, each is alone—Alone in longings undefined,Which float upon the sensuous wind   From distant Arcadie.
I hear the far, far swish of wavesThat rock and roll o'er silent graves,And in their tone I catch the faintSad echo of a nameless plaint—While slowly steals, elusive, sweet,With dim suggestions, soaring, fleet,A thought of care-free, joyous days,When life began in flowered ways,   Of primal Arcadie.
​Who has not known that yearning cry,That longing for the pure and high,That homesick sense of something lost—A something far beyond the costOf all the paltry things this lifeMay offer, though its realm be rifeWith prideful gifts? Alas! the soulCraves ever, spurning all life's dole,   Its distant Arcadie.

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