THE TRAVELER.

I Shall come back with memories
Of opal seas and sapphire skies,
A thousand winds upon my lips,
A thousand strangers in my eyes.

I shall come back with fragrant tales
Of glamour in an alien land,
Where shadow-fingered twilights sift
The golden stars, like grains of sand.

I shall come back with memories
Whose shadows on my face will fall;
Pray God they do not strangely tell
That I have not come back at all.

I shall come back with fragrant tales,
That will say much but not the whole;
I shall say all, if I come back
With silence in my soul.