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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:19:18 -0700 |
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diff --git a/25880-h/25880-h.htm b/25880-h/25880-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e700a52 --- /dev/null +++ b/25880-h/25880-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5585 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of American Poetry, by Various. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .indent {padding-left: 1em;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin: 1.5em 10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 0.5em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + div.trans-note {border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; + margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: center;} + + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of American Poetry, 1922, by +Edna St. Vincent Millay and Robert Frost + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: American Poetry, 1922 + A Miscellany + +Author: Edna St. Vincent Millay + Robert Frost + +Release Date: June 23, 2008 [EBook #25880] +[Date last updated: January 2, 2009] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN POETRY, 1922 *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, Huub Bakker, Stephen Hope and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned +images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> + + + + + +<h1>AMERICAN POETRY</h1> + +<h2>1922</h2> + +<h2>A MISCELLANY</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80px;"> +<img src="images/img001.jpg" width="80" height="79" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p class='center'>NEW YORK<br /> +HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> + + + + +<h3>1922, BY<br /> +HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.</h3> + + +<p class='center'> +PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY<br /> +THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY<br /> +RAHWAY, N. J. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_FOREWORD" id="A_FOREWORD"></a>A FOREWORD</h2> + + +<p>When the first Miscellany of American Poetry +appeared in 1920, innumerable were the questions +asked by both readers and reviewers of publishers +and contributors alike. The modest note on the +jacket appeared to satisfy no one. The volume purported +to have no editor, yet a collection without +an editor was pronounced preposterous. It was +obviously not the organ of a school, yet it did not +seem to have been compiled to exploit any particular +phase of American life; neither Nature, Love, +Patriotism, Propaganda, nor Philosophy could be acclaimed +as its reason for being, and it was certainly +not intended, as has been so frequent of late, to bring +a cheerful absence of mind to the world-weary during +an unoccupied ten minutes. Again, it was exclusive +not inclusive, since its object was, evidently, +not the meritorious if impossible one of attempting +to be a compendium of present-day American verse.</p> + +<p>But the publisher's note had stated one thing +quite clearly, that the Miscellany was to be a biennial. +Two years have passed, and with the second +volume it has seemed best to state at once the reasons +which actuated its contributors to join in such +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span>a venture.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the plan of the <i>Miscellany</i> is +frankly imitative. For some years now there has +been published in England an anthology entitled +Georgian Poetry. The Miscellany is intended to +be an American companion to that publication. The +dissimilarities of temperament, range and choice of +subjects are manifest, but the outstanding difference +is this: <i>Georgian Poetry</i> has an editor, and the +poems it contains may be taken as that editor's reaction +to the poetry of the day. The <i>Miscellany</i>, on +the other hand, has no editor; it is no one person's +choice which forms it; it is not an attempt to throw +into relief any particular group or stress any particular +tendency. It does disclose the most recent +work of certain representative figures in contemporary +American literature. The poets who appear here +have come together by mutual accord and, although +they may invite others to join them in subsequent +volumes as circumstance dictates, each one stands +(as all newcomers also must stand) as the exponent +of fresh and strikingly diverse qualities in our native +poetry. It is as if a dozen unacademic painters, +separated by temperament and distance, were to arrange +to have an exhibition every two years of their +latest work. They would not pretend that they were +the only painters worthy of a public showing; they +would maintain that their work was, generally speaking, +most interesting to one another. Their gallery +would necessarily be limited; but it would be flexible +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span> +enough to admit, with every fresh exhibit, three or +four new members who had achieved an importance +and an idiom of their own. This is just what the +original contributors to the <i>Miscellany</i> have done.</p> + +<p>The newcomers—H. D., Alfred Kreymborg, and +Edna St. Vincent Millay—have taken their places +with the same absence of judge or jury that marks +any "society of independents." There is no hanging +committee; no organizer of "position." Two +years ago the alphabet determined the arrangement; +this time seniority has been the sole arbiter of precedence. +Furthermore—and this can not be too +often repeated—there has been no editor. To be +painstakingly precise, each contributor has been his +own editor. As such, he has chosen his own selections +and determined the order in which they are to +be printed, but he has had no authority over either +the choice or grouping of his fellow exhibitors' contributions. +To one of the members has been delegated +the merely mechanical labors of assembling, +proof-reading, and seeing the volume through the +press. The absence of E. A. Robinson from this +year's <i>Miscellany</i> is a source of regret not only to +all the contributors but to the poet himself. Mr. +Robinson has written nothing since his Collected +Poems with the exception of a long poem—a volume +in itself—but he hopes to appear in any subsequent +collection.</p> + +<p>It should be added that this is not a haphazard +anthology of picked-over poetry. The poems that +follow are new. They are new not only in the sense +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span> +that (with two exceptions) they cannot be found in +book form, but most of them have never previously +been published. Certain of the selections have appeared +in recent magazines and these are reprinted +by permission of <i>The Century</i>, <i>The Yale Review</i>, +<i>Poetry: A Magazine of Verse</i>, <i>The New Republic</i>, +<i>Harper's</i>, <i>Scribner's</i>, <i>The Bookman</i>, <i>The Freeman</i>, +<i>Broom</i>, <i>The Dial</i>, <i>The Atlantic Monthly</i>, <i>Farm and +Fireside</i>, <i>The Measure</i>, and <i>The Literary Review</i>. +Vachel Lindsay's "I Know All This When Gipsy +Fiddles Cry" is a revised version of the poem of +that name which was printed in <i>The Enchanted +Years</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<table summary='contents' border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0'> +<tr><td><i><a href="#A_FOREWORD">A Foreword</a></i></td><td align="right"><i>iii</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>AMY LOWELL</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#LILACS">Lilacs</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 3</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#TWENTY-FOUR_HOKKU_ON_A_MODERN_THEME">Twenty-four Hokku on a Modern Theme</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 8</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THE_SWANS">The Swans</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 13</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#PRIME">Prime</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 16</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#VESPERS">Vespers</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 17</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#IN_EXCELSIS">In Excelsis</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 18</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#LA_RONDE_DU_DIABLE">La Ronde du Diable</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 20</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>ROBERT FROST</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#FIRE_AND_ICE">Fire and Ice</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 25</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THE_GRINDSTONE">The Grindstone</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 26</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THE_WITCH_OF_COOS">The Witch of Coös</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 29</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#A_BROOK_IN_THE_CITY">A Brook in the City</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 37</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#DESIGN">Design</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 38</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>CARL SANDBURG</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#AND_SO_TO-DAY">And So To-day</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 41</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#CALIFORNIA_CITY_LANDSCAPE">California City Landscape</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 49</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#UPSTREAM">Upstream</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 51</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#WINDFLOWER_LEAF">Windflower Leaf</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 52</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>VACHEL LINDSAY</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#IN_PRAISE_OF_JOHNNY_APPLESEED1">In Praise of Johnny Appleseed</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 55</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#I_KNOW_ALL_THIS_WHEN_GIPSY">I Know All This When Gipsy Fiddles Cry</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 66</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>JAMES OPPENHEIM</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#HEBREWS">Hebrews</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 75</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td>ALFRED KREYMBORG</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#ADAGIO_A_DUET">Adagio: A Duet</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 79</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#DIE_KUCHE">Die Küche</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 80</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#RAIN">Rain</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 81</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#PEASANT">Peasant</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 83</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#BUBBLES">Bubbles</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 85</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#DIRGE">Dirge</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 87</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#COLOPHON">Colophon</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 88</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>SARA TEASDALE</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#WISDOM">Wisdom</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 91</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#PLACES">Places</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 92</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Twilight</i> (Tucson)</span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Full Moon</i> (Santa Barbara)</span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Winter Sun</i> (Lenox)</span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Evening</i> (Nahant)</span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#WORDS_FOR_AN_OLD_AIR">Words for an Old Air</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 97</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THOSE_WHO_LOVE">Those Who Love</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 98</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#TWO_SONGS_FOR_SOLITUDE">Two Songs for Solitude</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 99</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The Crystal Gazer</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The Solitary</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td>LOUIS UNTERMEYER</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#MONOLOG_FROM_A_MATTRESS">Monolog from a Mattress</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 103</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#WATERS_OF_BABYLON">Waters of Babylon</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 110</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THE_FLAMING_CIRCLE">The Flaming Circle</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 112</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#PORTRAIT_OF_A_MACHINE">Portrait of a Machine</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 114</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#ROAST_LEVIATHAN">Roast Leviathan</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 115</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>JOHN GOULD FLETCHER</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#A_REBEL">A Rebel</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 127</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THE_ROCK">The Rock</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 128</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#BLUE_WATER">Blue Water</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 129</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#PRAYERS_FOR_WIND">Prayers for Wind</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 130</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#IMPROMPTU">Impromptu</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 131</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#CHINESE_POET_AMONG_BARBARIANS">Chinese Poet Among Barbarians</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 132</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#SNOWY_MOUNTAINS">Snowy Mountains</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 133</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THE_FUTURE">The Future</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 134</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#UPON_THE_HILL">Upon the Hill</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 136</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THE_ENDURING">The Enduring</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 137</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#OLD_MAN">Old Man</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 141</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#TONE_PICTURE">Tone Picture</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 142</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#THEY_SAY">They Say—</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 143</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#RESCUE">Rescue</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 144</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#MATER_IN_EXTREMIS">Mater in Extremis</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 146</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#SELF-REJECTED">Self-Rejected</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 147</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>H. D.</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#HOLY_SATYR">Holy Satyr</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 151</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#LAIS">Lais</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 153</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#HELIODORA">Heliodora</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 156</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#TOWARD_THE_PIRAEUS">Toward the Piræus</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 161</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Slay with your eyes, Greek</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>You would have broken my wings</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>I loved you</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>What had you done</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>If I had been a boy</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>It was not chastity that made me cold</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td>CONRAD AIKEN</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#SEVEN_TWILIGHTS">Seven Twilights</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 171</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>The ragged pilgrim on the road to nowhere</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Now by the wall of the ancient town</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>When the tree bares, the music of it changes</i></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>"This is the hour," she says, "of transmutation"</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Now the great wheel of darkness and low clouds</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Heaven, you say, will be a field in April</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>In the long silence of the sea</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#TETELESTAI">Tetélestai</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 184</i></td></tr> +<tr><td>EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY</td></tr> +<tr><td><span class='indent'><a href="#EIGHT_SONNETS">Eight Sonnets</a></span></td><td align="right"><i> 193</i></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>When you, that at this moment are to me</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>What's this of death, from you who never will die</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>I know I am but summer to your heart</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Here is a wound that never will heal, I know</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Say what you will, and scratch my heart to find</i></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#BIBLIOGRAPHY">BIBLIOGRAPHY</a></td><td align="right"><i> 201</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_001">[Pg 1]</a></span></td></tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_002" id="Page_002">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="AMY_LOWELL" id="AMY_LOWELL"></a>AMY LOWELL</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="LILACS" id="LILACS"></a>LILACS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'><tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Lilacs,</span> +<span class='i0'>False blue,</span> +<span class='i0'>White,</span> +<span class='i0'>Purple,</span> +<span class='i0'>Color of lilac,</span> +<span class='i0'>Your great puffs of flowers</span> +<span class='i0'>Are everywhere in this my New England.</span> +<span class='i0'>Among your heart-shaped leaves</span> +<span class='i0'>Orange orioles hop like music-box birds and sing</span> +<span class='i0'>Their little weak soft songs;</span> +<span class='i0'>In the crooks of your branches</span> +<span class='i0'>The bright eyes of song sparrows sitting on spotted eggs</span> +<span class='i0'>Peer restlessly through the light and shadow</span> +<span class='i0'>Of all Springs.</span> +<span class='i0'>Lilacs in dooryards</span> +<span class='i0'>Holding quiet conversations with an early moon;</span> +<span class='i0'>Lilacs watching a deserted house</span> +<span class='i0'>Settling sideways into the grass of an old road;</span> +<span class='i0'>Lilacs, wind-beaten, staggering under a lopsided shock of bloom</span> +<span class='i0'>Above a cellar dug into a hill.</span> +<span class='i0'>You are everywhere.</span> +<span class='i0'>You were everywhere.</span> +<span class='i0'>You tapped the window when the preacher preached his sermon,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_004" id="Page_004">[Pg 4]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>And ran along the road beside the boy going to school.</span> +<span class='i0'>You stood by pasture-bars to give the cows good milking,</span> +<span class='i0'>You persuaded the housewife that her dish-pan was of silver</span> +<span class='i0'>And her husband an image of pure gold.</span> +<span class='i0'>You flaunted the fragrance of your blossoms</span> +<span class='i0'>Through the wide doors of Custom Houses—</span> +<span class='i0'>You, and sandal-wood, and tea,</span> +<span class='i0'>Charging the noses of quill-driving clerks</span> +<span class='i0'>When a ship was in from China.</span> +<span class='i0'>You called to them: "Goose-quill men, goose-quill men,</span> +<span class='i0'>May is a month for flitting,"</span> +<span class='i0'>Until they writhed on their high stools</span> +<span class='i0'>And wrote poetry on their letter-sheets behind the propped-up ledgers.</span> +<span class='i0'>Paradoxical New England clerks,</span> +<span class='i0'>Writing inventories in ledgers, reading the "Song of Solomon" at night,</span> +<span class='i0'>So many verses before bedtime,</span> +<span class='i0'>Because it was the Bible.</span> +<span class='i0'>The dead fed you</span> +<span class='i0'>Amid the slant stones of graveyards.</span> +<span class='i0'>Pale ghosts who planted you</span> +<span class='i0'>Came in the night time</span> +<span class='i0'>And let their thin hair blow through your clustered stems.</span> +<span class='i0'>You are of the green sea,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_005" id="Page_005">[Pg 5]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>And of the stone hills which reach a long distance.</span> +<span class='i0'>You are of elm-shaded streets with little shops where they sell kites and marbles,</span> +<span class='i0'>You are of great parks where every one walks and nobody is at home.</span> +<span class='i0'>You cover the blind sides of greenhouses</span> +<span class='i0'>And lean over the top to say a hurry-word through the glass</span> +<span class='i0'>To your friends, the grapes, inside.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Lilacs,</span> +<span class='i0'>False blue,</span> +<span class='i0'>White,</span> +<span class='i0'>Purple,</span> +<span class='i0'>Color of lilac,</span> +<span class='i0'>You have forgotten your Eastern origin,</span> +<span class='i0'>The veiled women with eyes like panthers,</span> +<span class='i0'>The swollen, aggressive turbans of jeweled Pashas.</span> +<span class='i0'>Now you are a very decent flower,</span> +<span class='i0'>A reticent flower,</span> +<span class='i0'>A curiously clear-cut, candid flower,</span> +<span class='i0'>Standing beside clean doorways,</span> +<span class='i0'>Friendly to a house-cat and a pair of spectacles,</span> +<span class='i0'>Making poetry out of a bit of moonlight</span> +<span class='i0'>And a hundred or two sharp blossoms.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Maine knows you,</span> +<span class='i0'>Has for years and years;</span> +<span class='i0'>New Hampshire knows you,</span> +<span class='i0'>And Massachusetts</span> +<span class='i0'>And Vermont.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_006" id="Page_006">[Pg 6]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Cape Cod starts you along the beaches to Rhode Island;</span> +<span class='i0'>Connecticut takes you from a river to the sea.</span> +<span class='i0'>You are brighter than apples,</span> +<span class='i0'>Sweeter than tulips,</span> +<span class='i0'>You are the great flood of our souls</span> +<span class='i0'>Bursting above the leaf-shapes of our hearts,</span> +<span class='i0'>You are the smell of all Summers,</span> +<span class='i0'>The love of wives and children,</span> +<span class='i0'>The recollection of the gardens of little children,</span> +<span class='i0'>You are State Houses and Charters</span> +<span class='i0'>And the familiar treading of the foot to and fro on a road it knows.</span> +<span class='i0'>May is lilac here in New England,</span> +<span class='i0'>May is a thrush singing "Sun up!" on a tip-top ash-tree,</span> +<span class='i0'>May is white clouds behind pine-trees</span> +<span class='i0'>Puffed out and marching upon a blue sky.</span> +<span class='i0'>May is a green as no other,</span> +<span class='i0'>May is much sun through small leaves,</span> +<span class='i0'>May is soft earth,</span> +<span class='i0'>And apple-blossoms,</span> +<span class='i0'>And windows open to a South wind.</span> +<span class='i0'>May is a full light wind of lilac</span> +<span class='i0'>From Canada to Narragansett Bay.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Lilacs,</span> +<span class='i0'>False blue,</span> +<span class='i0'>White,</span> +<span class='i0'>Purple,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_007" id="Page_007">[Pg 7]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Color of lilac,</span> +<span class='i0'>Heart-leaves of lilac all over New England,</span> +<span class='i0'>Roots of lilac under all the soil of New England,</span> +<span class='i0'>Lilac in me because I am New England,</span> +<span class='i0'>Because my roots are in it,</span> +<span class='i0'>Because my leaves are of it,</span> +<span class='i0'>Because my flowers are for it,</span> +<span class='i0'>Because it is my country</span> +<span class='i0'>And I speak to it of itself</span> +<span class='i0'>And sing of it with my own voice</span> +<span class='i0'>Since certainly it is mine.</span> +</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_008" id="Page_008">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="TWENTY-FOUR_HOKKU_ON_A_MODERN_THEME" id="TWENTY-FOUR_HOKKU_ON_A_MODERN_THEME"></a>TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='center'><b>I</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Again the larkspur,</span> +<span class='i0'>Heavenly blue in my garden.</span> +<span class='i0'>They, at least, unchanged.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>II</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>How have I hurt you?</span> +<span class='i0'>You look at me with pale eyes,</span> +<span class='i0'>But these are my tears.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>III</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Morning and evening—</span> +<span class='i0'>Yet for us once long ago</span> +<span class='i0'>Was no division.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>IV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I hear many words.</span> +<span class='i0'>Set an hour when I may come</span> +<span class='i0'>Or remain silent.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>V</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>In the ghostly dawn</span> +<span class='i0'>I write new words for your ears—</span> +<span class='i0'>Even now you sleep.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_009" id="Page_009">[Pg 9]</a></span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VI</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>This then is morning.</span> +<span class='i0'>Have you no comfort for me</span> +<span class='i0'>Cold-colored flowers?</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>My eyes are weary</span> +<span class='i0'>Following you everywhere.</span> +<span class='i0'>Short, oh short, the days!</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VIII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>When the flower falls</span> +<span class='i0'>The leaf is no more cherished.</span> +<span class='i0'>Every day I fear.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>IX</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Even when you smile</span> +<span class='i0'>Sorrow is behind your eyes.</span> +<span class='i0'>Pity me, therefore.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>X</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Laugh—it is nothing.</span> +<span class='i0'>To others you may seem gay,</span> +<span class='i0'>I watch with grieved eyes.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_010" id="Page_010">[Pg 10]</a></span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XI</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Take it, this white rose.</span> +<span class='i0'>Stems of roses do not bleed;</span> +<span class='i0'>Your fingers are safe.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>As a river-wind</span> +<span class='i0'>Hurling clouds at a bright moon,</span> +<span class='i0'>So am I to you.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XIII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Watching the iris,</span> +<span class='i0'>The faint and fragile petals—</span> +<span class='i0'>How am I worthy?</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XIV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Down a red river</span> +<span class='i0'>I drift in a broken skiff.</span> +<span class='i0'>Are you then so brave?</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Night lies beside me</span> +<span class='i0'>Chaste and cold as a sharp sword.</span> +<span class='i0'>It and I alone.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XVI</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Last night it rained.</span> +<span class='i0'>Now, in the desolate dawn,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crying of blue jays.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_011" id="Page_011">[Pg 11]</a></span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XVII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Foolish so to grieve,</span> +<span class='i0'>Autumn has its colored leaves—</span> +<span class='i0'>But before they turn?</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XVIII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Afterwards I think:</span> +<span class='i0'>Poppies bloom when it thunders.</span> +<span class='i0'>Is this not enough?</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XIX</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Love is a game—yes?</span> +<span class='i0'>I think it is a drowning:</span> +<span class='i0'>Black willows and stars.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XX</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>When the aster fades</span> +<span class='i0'>The creeper flaunts in crimson.</span> +<span class='i0'>Always another!</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XXI</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Turning from the page,</span> +<span class='i0'>Blind with a night of labor,</span> +<span class='i0'>I hear morning crows.</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XXII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>A cloud of lilies,</span> +<span class='i0'>Or else you walk before me.</span> +<span class='i0'>Who could see clearly?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_012" id="Page_012">[Pg 12]</a></span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XXIII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Sweet smell of wet flowers</span> +<span class='i0'>Over an evening garden.</span> +<span class='i0'>Your portrait, perhaps?</span> +</p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>XXIV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Staying in my room,</span> +<span class='i0'>I thought of the new Spring leaves.</span> +<span class='i0'>That day was happy.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_013" id="Page_013">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_SWANS" id="THE_SWANS"></a>THE SWANS</h2> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The swans float and float</span> +<span class='i0'>Along the moat</span> +<span class='i0'>Around the Bishop's garden,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the white clouds push</span> +<span class='i0'>Across a blue sky</span> +<span class='i0'>With edges that seem to draw in and harden.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Two slim men of white bronze</span> +<span class='i0'>Beat each with a hammer on the end of a rod</span> +<span class='i0'>The hours of God.</span> +<span class='i0'>Striking a bell,</span> +<span class='i0'>They do it well.</span> +<span class='i0'>And the echoes jump, and tinkle, and swell</span> +<span class='i0'>In the Cathedral's carved stone polygons.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The swans float</span> +<span class='i0'>About the moat,</span> +<span class='i0'>And another swan sits still in the air</span> +<span class='i0'>Above the old inn.</span> +<span class='i0'>He gazes into the street</span> +<span class='i0'>And swims the cold and the heat,</span> +<span class='i0'>He has always been there,</span> +<span class='i0'>At least so say the cobbles in the square.</span> +<span class='i0'>They listen to the beat</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the hammered bell,</span> +<span class='i0'>And think of the feet</span> +<span class='i0'>Which beat upon their tops;</span> +<span class='i0'>But what they think they do not tell.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_014" id="Page_014">[Pg 14]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>And the swans who float</span> +<span class='i0'>Up and down the moat</span> +<span class='i0'>Gobble the bread the Bishop feeds them.</span> +<span class='i0'>The slim bronze men beat the hour again,</span> +<span class='i0'>But only the gargoyles up in the hard blue air heed them.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>When the Bishop says a prayer,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the choir sing "Amen,"</span> +<span class='i0'>The hammers break in on them there:</span> +<span class='i0'>Clang! Clang! Beware! Beware!</span> +<span class='i0'>The carved swan looks down at the passing men,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the cobbles wink: "An hour has gone again."</span> +<span class='i0'>But the people kneeling before the Bishop's chair</span> +<span class='i0'>Forget the passing over the cobbles in the square.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>An hour of day and an hour of night,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the clouds float away in a red-splashed light.</span> +<span class='i0'>The sun, quotha? or white, white</span> +<span class='i0'>Smoke with fire all alight.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>An old roof crashing on a Bishop's tomb,</span> +<span class='i0'>Swarms of men with a thirst for room,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the footsteps blur to a shower, shower, shower,</span> +<span class='i0'>Of men passing—passing—every hour,</span> +<span class='i0'>With arms of power, and legs of power,</span> +<span class='i0'>And power in their strong, hard minds.</span> +<span class='i0'>No need then</span> +<span class='i0'>For the slim bronze men</span> +<span class='i0'>Who beat God's hours: Prime, Tierce, None.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_015" id="Page_015">[Pg 15]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Who wants to hear? No one.</span> +<span class='i0'>We will melt them, and mold them,</span> +<span class='i0'>And make them a stem</span> +<span class='i0'>For a banner gorged with blood,</span> +<span class='i0'>For a blue-mouthed torch.</span> +<span class='i0'>So the men rush like clouds,</span> +<span class='i0'>They strike their iron edges on the Bishop's chair</span> +<span class='i0'>And fling down the lanterns by the tower stair.</span> +<span class='i0'>They rip the Bishop out of his tomb</span> +<span class='i0'>And break the mitre off of his head.</span> +<span class='i0'>"See," say they, "the man is dead;</span> +<span class='i0'>He cannot shiver or sing.</span> +<span class='i0'>We'll toss for his ring."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The cobbles see this all along the street</span> +<span class='i0'>Coming—coming—on countless feet.</span> +<span class='i0'>And the clockmen mark the hours as they go.</span> +<span class='i0'>But slow—slow—</span> +<span class='i0'>The swans float</span> +<span class='i0'>In the Bishop's moat.</span> +<span class='i0'>And the inn swan</span> +<span class='i0'>Sits on and on,</span> +<span class='i0'>Staring before him with cold glass eyes.</span> +<span class='i0'>Only the Bishop walks serene,</span> +<span class='i0'>Pleased with his church, pleased with his house,</span> +<span class='i0'>Pleased with the sound of the hammered bell,</span> +<span class='i0'>Beating his doom.</span> +<span class='i0'>Saying "Boom! Boom! Room! Room!"</span> +<span class='i0'>He is old, and kind, and deaf, and blind,</span> +<span class='i0'>And very, very pleased with his charming moat</span> +<span class='i0'>And the swans which float.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_016" id="Page_016">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="PRIME" id="PRIME"></a>PRIME</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Your voice is like bells over roofs at dawn</span> +<span class='i0'>When a bird flies</span> +<span class='i0'>And the sky changes to a fresher color.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Speak, speak, Beloved.</span> +<span class='i0'>Say little things</span> +<span class='i0'>For my ears to catch</span> +<span class='i0'>And run with them to my heart.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_017" id="Page_017">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="VESPERS" id="VESPERS"></a>VESPERS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Last night, at sunset,</span> +<span class='i0'>The foxgloves were like tall altar candles.</span> +<span class='i0'>Could I have lifted you to the roof of the greenhouse, my Dear,</span> +<span class='i0'>I should have understood their burning.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_018" id="Page_018">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="IN_EXCELSIS" id="IN_EXCELSIS"></a>IN EXCELSIS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>You—you—</span> +<span class='i0'>Your shadow is sunlight on a plate of silver;</span> +<span class='i0'>Your footsteps, the seeding-place of lilies;</span> +<span class='i0'>Your hands moving, a chime of bells across a windless air.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The movement of your hands is the long, golden running of light from a rising sun;</span> +<span class='i0'>It is the hopping of birds upon a garden-path.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>As the perfume of jonquils, you come forth in the morning.</span> +<span class='i0'>Young horses are not more sudden than your thoughts,</span> +<span class='i0'>Your words are bees about a pear-tree,</span> +<span class='i0'>Your fancies are the gold-and-black striped wasps buzzing among red apples.</span> +<span class='i0'>I drink your lips,</span> +<span class='i0'>I eat the whiteness of your hands and feet.</span> +<span class='i0'>My mouth is open,</span> +<span class='i0'>As a new jar I am empty and open.</span> +<span class='i0'>Like white water are you who fill the cup of my mouth,</span> +<span class='i0'>Like a brook of water thronged with lilies.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>You are frozen as the clouds,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_019" id="Page_019">[Pg 19]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>You are far and sweet as the high clouds.</span> +<span class='i0'>I dare reach to you,</span> +<span class='i0'>I dare touch the rim of your brightness.</span> +<span class='i0'>I leap beyond the winds,</span> +<span class='i0'>I cry and shout,</span> +<span class='i0'>For my throat is keen as a sword</span> +<span class='i0'>Sharpened on a hone of ivory.</span> +<span class='i0'>My throat sings the joy of my eyes,</span> +<span class='i0'>The rushing gladness of my love.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>How has the rainbow fallen upon my heart?</span> +<span class='i0'>How have I snared the seas to lie in my fingers</span> +<span class='i0'>And caught the sky to be a cover for my head?</span> +<span class='i0'>How have you come to dwell with me,</span> +<span class='i0'>Compassing me with the four circles of your mystic lightness,</span> +<span class='i0'>So that I say "Glory! Glory!" and bow before you</span> +<span class='i0'>As to a shrine?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Do I tease myself that morning is morning and a day after?</span> +<span class='i0'>Do I think the air a condescension,</span> +<span class='i0'>The earth a politeness,</span> +<span class='i0'>Heaven a boon deserving thanks?</span> +<span class='i0'>So you—air—earth—heaven—</span> +<span class='i0'>I do not thank you,</span> +<span class='i0'>I take you,</span> +<span class='i0'>I live.</span> +<span class='i0'>And those things which I say in consequence</span> +<span class='i0'>Are rubies mortised in a gate of stone.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_020" id="Page_020">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="LA_RONDE_DU_DIABLE" id="LA_RONDE_DU_DIABLE"></a>LA RONDE DU DIABLE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>"Here we go round the ivy-bush,"</span> +<span class='i0'>And that's a tune we all dance to.</span> +<span class='i0'>Little poet people snatching ivy,</span> +<span class='i0'>Trying to prevent one another from snatching ivy.</span> +<span class='i0'>If you get a leaf, there's another for me;</span> +<span class='i0'>Look at the bush.</span> +<span class='i0'>But I want your leaf, Brother, and you mine,</span> +<span class='i0'>Therefore, of course, we push.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>"Here we go round the laurel-tree."</span> +<span class='i0'>Do we want laurels for ourselves most,</span> +<span class='i0'>Or most that no one else shall have any?</span> +<span class='i0'>We cannot stop to discuss the question.</span> +<span class='i0'>We cannot stop to plait them into crowns</span> +<span class='i0'>Or notice whether they become us.</span> +<span class='i0'>We scarcely see the laurel-tree,</span> +<span class='i0'>The crowd about us is all we see,</span> +<span class='i0'>And there's no room in it for you and me.</span> +<span class='i0'>Therefore, Sisters, it's my belief</span> +<span class='i0'>We've none of us very much chance at a leaf.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>"Here we go round the barberry-bush."</span> +<span class='i0'>It's a bitter, blood-red fruit at best,</span> +<span class='i0'>Which puckers the mouth and burns the heart.</span> +<span class='i0'>To tell the truth, only one or two</span> +<span class='i0'>Want the berries enough to strive</span> +<span class='i0'>For more than he has, more than she.</span> +<span class='i0'>An acid berry for you and me.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_021" id="Page_021">[Pg 21]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Abundance of berries for all who will eat,</span> +<span class='i0'>But an aching meat.</span> +<span class='i0'>That's poetry.</span> +<span class='i0'>And who wants to swallow a mouthful of sorrow?</span> +<span class='i0'>The world is old and our century</span> +<span class='i0'>Must be well along, and we've no time to waste.</span> +<span class='i0'>Make haste, Brothers and Sisters, push</span> +<span class='i0'>With might and main round the ivy-bush,</span> +<span class='i0'>Struggle and pull at the laurel-tree,</span> +<span class='i0'>And leave the barberries be</span> +<span class='i0'>For poor lost lunatics like me,</span> +<span class='i0'>Who set them so high</span> +<span class='i0'>They overtop the sun in the sky.</span> +<span class='i0'>Does it matter at all that we don't know why?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_022" id="Page_022">[Pg 22]</a></span> +</p></td></tr></table> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h2>ROBERT FROST</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_024" id="Page_024">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="FIRE_AND_ICE" id="FIRE_AND_ICE"></a>FIRE AND ICE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Some say the world will end in fire,</span> +<span class='i1'>Some say in ice.</span> +<span class='i0'>From what I've tasted of desire</span> +<span class='i0'>I hold with those who favor fire.</span> +<span class='i1'>But if it had to perish twice,</span> +<span class='i0'>I think I know enough of hate</span> +<span class='i1'>To know that for destruction ice</span> +<span class='i0'>Is also great,</span> +<span class='i1'>And would suffice.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_026" id="Page_026">[Pg 26]</a></span> +</p></td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GRINDSTONE" id="THE_GRINDSTONE"></a>THE GRINDSTONE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Having a wheel and four legs of its own</span> +<span class='i0'>Has never availed the cumbersome grindstone</span> +<span class='i0'>To get it anywhere that I can see.</span> +<span class='i0'>These hands have helped it go and even race;</span> +<span class='i0'>Not all the motion, though, they ever lent,</span> +<span class='i0'>Not all the miles it may have thought it went,</span> +<span class='i0'>Have got it one step from the starting place.</span> +<span class='i0'>It stands beside the same old apple tree.</span> +<span class='i0'>The shadow of the apple tree is thin</span> +<span class='i0'>Upon it now; its feet are fast in snow.</span> +<span class='i0'>All other farm machinery's gone in,</span> +<span class='i0'>And some of it on no more legs and wheel</span> +<span class='i0'>Than the grindstone can boast to stand or go.</span> +<span class='i0'>(I'm thinking chiefly of the wheelbarrow.)</span> +<span class='i0'>For months it hasn't known the taste of steel,</span> +<span class='i0'>Washed down with rusty water in a tin.</span> +<span class='i0'>But standing outdoors, hungry, in the cold,</span> +<span class='i0'>Except in towns, at night, is not a sin.</span> +<span class='i0'>And, anyway, its standing in the yard</span> +<span class='i0'>Under a ruinous live apple tree</span> +<span class='i0'>Has nothing any more to do with me,</span> +<span class='i0'>Except that I remember how of old,</span> +<span class='i0'>One summer day, all day I drove it hard,</span> +<span class='i0'>And some one mounted on it rode it hard,</span> +<span class='i0'>And he and I between us ground a blade.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I gave it the preliminary spin,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_027" id="Page_027">[Pg 27]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>And poured on water (tears it might have been);</span> +<span class='i0'>And when it almost gayly jumped and flowed,</span> +<span class='i0'>A Father-Time-like man got on and rode,</span> +<span class='i0'>Armed with a scythe and spectacles that glowed.</span> +<span class='i0'>He turned on will-power to increase the load</span> +<span class='i0'>And slow me down—and I abruptly slowed,</span> +<span class='i0'>Like coming to a sudden railroad station.</span> +<span class='i0'>I changed from hand to hand in desperation.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I wondered what machine of ages gone</span> +<span class='i0'>This represented an improvement on.</span> +<span class='i0'>For all I knew it may have sharpened spears</span> +<span class='i0'>And arrowheads itself. Much use for years</span> +<span class='i0'>Had gradually worn it an oblate</span> +<span class='i0'>Spheroid that kicked and struggled in its gait,</span> +<span class='i0'>Appearing to return me hate for hate.</span> +<span class='i0'>(But I forgive it now as easily</span> +<span class='i0'>As any other boyhood enemy</span> +<span class='i0'>Whose pride has failed to get him anywhere.)</span> +<span class='i0'>I wondered who it was the man thought ground—</span> +<span class='i0'>The one who held the wheel back or the one</span> +<span class='i0'>Who gave his life to keep it going round?</span> +<span class='i0'>I wondered if he really thought it fair</span> +<span class='i0'>For him to have the say when we were done.</span> +<span class='i0'>Such were the bitter thoughts to which I turned.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Not for myself was I so much concerned.</span> +<span class='i0'>Oh, no!—although, of course, I could have found</span> +<span class='i0'>A better way to pass the afternoon</span> +<span class='i0'>Than grinding discord out of a grindstone,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_028" id="Page_028">[Pg 28]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>And beating insects at their gritty tune.</span> +<span class='i0'>Nor was I for the man so much concerned.</span> +<span class='i0'>Once when the grindstone almost jumped its bearing</span> +<span class='i0'>It looked as if he might be badly thrown</span> +<span class='i0'>And wounded on his blade. So far from caring,</span> +<span class='i0'>I laughed inside, and only cranked the faster,</span> +<span class='i0'>(It ran as if it wasn't greased but glued);</span> +<span class='i0'>I welcomed any moderate disaster</span> +<span class='i0'>That might be calculated to postpone</span> +<span class='i0'>What evidently nothing could conclude.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The thing that made me more and more afraid</span> +<span class='i0'>Was that we'd ground it sharp and hadn't known,</span> +<span class='i0'>And now were only wasting precious blade.</span> +<span class='i0'>And when he raised it dripping once and tried</span> +<span class='i0'>The creepy edge of it with wary touch,</span> +<span class='i0'>And viewed it over his glasses funny-eyed,</span> +<span class='i0'>Only disinterestedly to decide</span> +<span class='i0'>It needed a turn more, I could have cried</span> +<span class='i0'>Wasn't there danger of a turn too much?</span> +<span class='i0'>Mightn't we make it worse instead of better?</span> +<span class='i0'>I was for leaving something to the whetter.</span> +<span class='i0'>What if it wasn't all it should be? I'd</span> +<span class='i0'>Be satisfied if he'd be satisfied.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_029" id="Page_029">[Pg 29]</a></span> +</p></td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_WITCH_OF_COOS" id="THE_WITCH_OF_COOS"></a>THE WITCH OF COÖS</h2> + + +<p class='center'><i>Circa 1922</i></p> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>I staid the night for shelter at a farm</span> +<span class='i1'>Behind the mountain, with a mother and son,</span> +<span class='i1'>Two old-believers. They did all the talking.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Mother</i></span> +<span class='i1'>Folks think a witch who has familiar spirits</span> +<span class='i1'>She <i>could</i> call up to pass a winter evening,</span> +<span class='i1'>But <i>won't</i>, should be burned at the stake or something.</span> +<span class='i1'>Summoning spirits isn't "Button, button,</span> +<span class='i1'>Who's got the button?" I'd have you understand.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Son</i></span> +<span class='i1'>Mother can make a common table rear</span> +<span class='i1'>And kick with two legs like an army mule.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Mother</i></span> +<span class='i1'>And when I've done it, what good have I done?</span> +<span class='i1'>Rather than tip a table for you, let me</span> +<span class='i1'>Tell you what Ralle the Sioux Control once told me.</span> +<span class='i1'>He said the dead had souls, but when I asked him</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_030" id="Page_030">[Pg 30]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>How that could be—I thought the dead were souls,</span> +<span class='i1'>He broke my trance. Don't that make you suspicious</span> +<span class='i1'>That there's something the dead are keeping back?</span> +<span class='i1'>Yes, there's something the dead are keeping back.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Son</i></span> +<span class='i1'>You wouldn't want to tell him what we have</span> +<span class='i1'>Up attic, mother?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Mother</i></span> +<span class='i10'>Bones—a skeleton.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Son</i></span> +<span class='i1'>But the headboard of mother's bed is pushed</span> +<span class='i1'>Against the attic door: the door is nailed.</span> +<span class='i1'>It's harmless. Mother hears it in the night</span> +<span class='i1'>Halting perplexed behind the barrier</span> +<span class='i1'>Of door and headboard. Where it wants to get</span> +<span class='i1'>Is back into the cellar where it came from.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Mother</i></span> +<span class='i1'>We'll never let them, will we, son? We'll never!</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Son</i></span> +<span class='i1'>It left the cellar forty years ago</span> +<span class='i1'>And carried itself like a pile of dishes</span> +<span class='i1'>Up one flight from the cellar to the kitchen,</span> +<span class='i1'>Another from the kitchen to the bedroom,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_031" id="Page_031">[Pg 31]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Another from the bedroom to the attic,</span> +<span class='i1'>Right past both father and mother, and neither stopped it.</span> +<span class='i1'>Father had gone upstairs; mother was downstairs.</span> +<span class='i1'>I was a baby: I don't know where I was.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Mother</i></span> +<span class='i1'>The only fault my husband found with me—</span> +<span class='i1'>I went to sleep before I went to bed,</span> +<span class='i1'>Especially in winter when the bed</span> +<span class='i1'>Might just as well be ice and the clothes snow.</span> +<span class='i1'>The night the bones came up the cellar-stairs</span> +<span class='i1'>Toffile had gone to bed alone and left me,</span> +<span class='i1'>But left an open door to cool the room off</span> +<span class='i1'>So as to sort of turn me out of it.</span> +<span class='i1'>I was just coming to myself enough</span> +<span class='i1'>To wonder where the cold was coming from,</span> +<span class='i1'>When I heard Toffile upstairs in the bedroom</span> +<span class='i1'>And thought I heard him downstairs in the cellar.</span> +<span class='i1'>The board we had laid down to walk dry-shod on</span> +<span class='i1'>When there was water in the cellar in spring</span> +<span class='i1'>Struck the hard cellar bottom. And then some one</span> +<span class='i1'>Began the stairs, two footsteps for each step,</span> +<span class='i1'>The way a man with one leg and a crutch,</span> +<span class='i1'>Or little child, comes up. It wasn't Toffile:</span> +<span class='i1'>It wasn't any one who could be there.</span> +<span class='i1'>The bulkhead double-doors were double-locked</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_032" id="Page_032">[Pg 32]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>And swollen tight and buried under snow.</span> +<span class='i1'>The cellar windows were banked up with sawdust</span> +<span class='i1'>And swollen tight and buried under snow.</span> +<span class='i1'>It was the bones. I knew them—and good reason.</span> +<span class='i1'>My first impulse was to get to the knob</span> +<span class='i1'>And hold the door. But the bones didn't try</span> +<span class='i1'>The door; they halted helpless on the landing,</span> +<span class='i1'>Waiting for things to happen in their favor.</span> +<span class='i1'>The faintest restless rustling ran all through them.</span> +<span class='i1'>I never could have done the thing I did</span> +<span class='i1'>If the wish hadn't been too strong in me</span> +<span class='i1'>To see how they were mounted for this walk.</span> +<span class='i1'>I had a vision of them put together</span> +<span class='i1'>Not like a man, but like a chandelier.</span> +<span class='i1'>So suddenly I flung the door wide on him.</span> +<span class='i1'>A moment he stood balancing with emotion,</span> +<span class='i1'>And all but lost himself. (A tongue of fire</span> +<span class='i1'>Flashed out and licked along his upper teeth.</span> +<span class='i1'>Smoke rolled inside the sockets of his eyes.)</span> +<span class='i1'>Then he came at me with one hand outstretched,</span> +<span class='i1'>The way he did in life once; but this time</span> +<span class='i1'>I struck the hand off brittle on the floor,</span> +<span class='i1'>And fell back from him on the floor myself.</span> +<span class='i1'>The finger-pieces slid in all directions.</span> +<span class='i1'>(Where did I see one of those pieces lately?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_033" id="Page_033">[Pg 33]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>Hand me my button-box—it must be there.)</span> +<span class='i1'>I sat up on the floor and shouted, "Toffile,</span> +<span class='i1'>It's coming up to you." It had its choice</span> +<span class='i1'>Of the door to the cellar or the hall.</span> +<span class='i1'>It took the hall door for the novelty,</span> +<span class='i1'>And set off briskly for so slow a thing,</span> +<span class='i1'>Still going every which way in the joints, though,</span> +<span class='i1'>So that it looked like lightning or a scribble,</span> +<span class='i1'>From the slap I had just now given its hand.</span> +<span class='i1'>I listened till it almost climbed the stairs</span> +<span class='i1'>From the hall to the only finished bedroom,</span> +<span class='i1'>Before I got up to do anything;</span> +<span class='i1'>Then ran and shouted, "Shut the bedroom door,</span> +<span class='i1'>Toffile, for my sake!" "Company," he said,</span> +<span class='i1'>"Don't make me get up; I'm too warm in bed."</span> +<span class='i1'>So lying forward weakly on the handrail</span> +<span class='i1'>I pushed myself upstairs, and in the light</span> +<span class='i1'>(The kitchen had been dark) I had to own</span> +<span class='i1'>I could see nothing. "Toffile, I don't see it.</span> +<span class='i1'>It's with us in the room, though. It's the bones."</span> +<span class='i1'>"What bones?" "The cellar bones—out of the grave."</span> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>That made him throw his bare legs out of bed</span> +<span class='i1'>And sit up by me and take hold of me.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_034" id="Page_034">[Pg 34]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>I wanted to put out the light and see</span> +<span class='i1'>If I could see it, or else mow the room,</span> +<span class='i1'>With our arms at the level of our knees,</span> +<span class='i1'>And bring the chalk-pile down. "I'll tell you what—</span> +<span class='i1'>It's looking for another door to try.</span> +<span class='i1'>The uncommonly deep snow has made him think</span> +<span class='i1'>Of his old song, <i>The Wild Colonial Boy</i>,</span> +<span class='i1'>He always used to sing along the tote-road.</span> +<span class='i1'>He's after an open door to get out-doors.</span> +<span class='i1'>Let's trap him with an open door up attic."</span> +<span class='i1'>Toffile agreed to that, and sure enough,</span> +<span class='i1'>Almost the moment he was given an opening,</span> +<span class='i1'>The steps began to climb the attic stairs.</span> +<span class='i1'>I heard them. Toffile didn't seem to hear them.</span> +<span class='i1'>"Quick!" I slammed to the door and held the knob.</span> +<span class='i1'>"Toffile, get nails." I made him nail the door shut,</span> +<span class='i1'>And push the headboard of the bed against it.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>Then we asked was there anything</span> +<span class='i1'>Up attic that we'd ever want again.</span> +<span class='i1'>The attic was less to us than the cellar.</span> +<span class='i1'>If the bones liked the attic, let them like it,</span> +<span class='i1'>Let them <i>stay</i> in the attic. When they sometimes</span> +<span class='i1'>Come down the stairs at night and stand perplexed</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_035" id="Page_035">[Pg 35]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>Behind the door and headboard of the bed,</span> +<span class='i1'>Brushing their chalky skull with chalky fingers,</span> +<span class='i1'>With sounds like the dry rattling of a shutter,</span> +<span class='i1'>That's what I sit up in the dark to say—</span> +<span class='i1'>To no one any more since Toffile died.</span> +<span class='i1'>Let them stay in the attic since they went there.</span> +<span class='i1'>I promised Toffile to be cruel to them</span> +<span class='i1'>For helping them be cruel once to him.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Son</i></span> +<span class='i1'>We think they had a grave down in the cellar.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Mother</i></span> +<span class='i1'>We know they had a grave down in the cellar.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Son</i></span> +<span class='i1'>We never could find out whose bones they were.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>The Mother</i></span> +<span class='i1'>Yes, we could too, son. Tell the truth for once.</span> +<span class='i1'>They were a man's his father killed for me.</span> +<span class='i1'>I mean a man he killed instead of me.</span> +<span class='i1'>The least I could do was to help dig their grave.</span> +<span class='i1'>We were about it one night in the cellar.</span> +<span class='i1'>Son knows the story: but 'twas not for him</span> +<span class='i1'>To tell the truth, suppose the time had come.</span> +<span class='i1'>Son looks surprised to see me end a lie</span> +<span class='i1'>We'd kept up all these years between ourselves</span> +<span class='i1'>So as to have it ready for outsiders.</span> +<span class='i1'>But to-night I don't care enough to lie—</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_036" id="Page_036">[Pg 36]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>I don't remember why I ever cared.</span> +<span class='i1'>Toffile, if he were here, I don't believe</span> +<span class='i1'>Could tell you why he ever cared himself....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>She hadn't found the finger-bone she wanted</span> +<span class='i1'>Among the buttons poured out in her lap.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>I verified the name next morning: Toffile;</span> +<span class='i1'>The rural letter-box said Toffile Lajway.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_037" id="Page_037">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_BROOK_IN_THE_CITY" id="A_BROOK_IN_THE_CITY"></a>A BROOK IN THE CITY</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The farm house lingers, though averse to square</span> +<span class='i0'>With the new city street it has to wear</span> +<span class='i0'>A number in. But what about the brook</span> +<span class='i0'>That held the house as in an elbow-crook?</span> +<span class='i0'>I ask as one who knew the brook, its strength</span> +<span class='i0'>And impulse, having dipped a finger-length</span> +<span class='i0'>And made it leap my knuckle, having tossed</span> +<span class='i0'>A flower to try its currents where they crossed.</span> +<span class='i0'>The meadow grass could be cemented down</span> +<span class='i0'>From growing under pavements of a town;</span> +<span class='i0'>The apple trees be sent to hearth-stone flame.</span> +<span class='i0'>Is water wood to serve a brook the same?</span> +<span class='i0'>How else dispose of an immortal force</span> +<span class='i0'>No longer needed? Staunch it at its source</span> +<span class='i0'>With cinder loads dumped down? The brook was thrown</span> +<span class='i0'>Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone</span> +<span class='i0'>In fetid darkness still to live and run—</span> +<span class='i0'>And all for nothing it had ever done</span> +<span class='i0'>Except forget to go in fear perhaps.</span> +<span class='i0'>No one would know except for ancient maps</span> +<span class='i0'>That such a brook ran water. But I wonder</span> +<span class='i0'>If, from its being kept forever under,</span> +<span class='i0'>These thoughts may not have risen that so keep</span> +<span class='i0'>This new-built city from both work and sleep.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_038" id="Page_038">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="DESIGN" id="DESIGN"></a>DESIGN</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,</span> +<span class='i0'>On a white heal-all, holding up a moth</span> +<span class='i0'>Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth—</span> +<span class='i0'>Assorted characters of death and blight</span> +<span class='i0'>Mixed ready to begin the morning right,</span> +<span class='i0'>Like the ingredients of a witches' broth—</span> +<span class='i0'>A snow-drop spider, a flower like froth,</span> +<span class='i0'>And dead wings carried like a paper kite.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What had that flower to do with being white,</span> +<span class='i0'>The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?</span> +<span class='i0'>What brought the kindred spider to that height,</span> +<span class='i0'>Then steered the white moth thither in the night?</span> +<span class='i0'>What but design of darkness to appal?—</span> +<span class='i0'>If design govern in a thing so small.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_039" id="Page_039">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_041" id="Page_041">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CARL_SANDBURG" id="CARL_SANDBURG"></a>CARL SANDBURG</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="AND_SO_TO-DAY" id="AND_SO_TO-DAY"></a>AND SO TO-DAY</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And so to-day—they lay him away—</span> +<span class='i0'>the boy nobody knows the name of—</span> +<span class='i0'>the buck private—the unknown soldier—</span> +<span class='i0'>the doughboy who dug under and died</span> +<span class='i0'>when they told him to—that's him.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Down Pennsylvania Avenue to-day the riders go,</span> +<span class='i0'>men and boys riding horses, roses in their teeth,</span> +<span class='i0'>stems of roses, rose leaf stalks, rose dark leaves—</span> +<span class='i0'>the line of the green ends in a red rose flash.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Skeleton men and boys riding skeleton horses,</span> +<span class='i0'>the rib bones shine, the rib bones curve,</span> +<span class='i0'>shine with savage, elegant curves—</span> +<span class='i0'>a jawbone runs with a long white slant,</span> +<span class='i0'>a skull dome runs with a long white arch,</span> +<span class='i0'>bone triangles click and rattle,</span> +<span class='i0'>elbows, ankles, white line slants—</span> +<span class='i0'>shining in the sun, past the White House,</span> +<span class='i0'>past the Treasury Building, Army and Navy Buildings,</span> +<span class='i0'>on to the mystic white Capitol Dome—</span> +<span class='i0'>so they go down Pennsylvania Avenue to-day,</span> +<span class='i0'>skeleton men and boys riding skeleton horses,</span> +<span class='i0'>stems of roses in their teeth,</span> +<span class='i0'>rose dark leaves at their white jaw slants—</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_042" id="Page_042">[Pg 42]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>and a horse laugh question nickers and whinnies,</span> +<span class='i0'>moans with a whistle out of horse head teeth:</span> +<span class='i0'>why? who? where?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>("The big fish—eat the little fish—</span> +<span class='i2'>the little fish—eat the shrimps—</span> +<span class='i2'>and the shrimps—eat mud,"—</span> +<span class='i2'>said a cadaverous man—with a black umbrella—</span> +<span class='i2'>spotted with white polka dots—with a missing</span> +<span class='i2'>ear—with a missing foot and arms—</span> +<span class='i2'>with a missing sheath of muscles</span> +<span class='i2'>singing to the silver sashes of the sun.)</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And so to-day—they lay him away—</span> +<span class='i0'>the boy nobody knows the name of—</span> +<span class='i0'>the buck private—the unknown soldier—</span> +<span class='i0'>the doughboy who dug under and died</span> +<span class='i0'>when they told him to—that's him.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>If he picked himself and said, "I am ready to die,"</span> +<span class='i0'>if he gave his name and said, "My country, take me,"</span> +<span class='i0'>then the baskets of roses to-day are for the Boy,</span> +<span class='i0'>the flowers, the songs, the steamboat whistles,</span> +<span class='i0'>the proclamations of the honorable orators,</span> +<span class='i0'>they are all for the Boy—that's him.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>If the government of the Republic picked him saying,</span> +<span class='i0'>"You are wanted, your country takes you"—</span> +<span class='i0'>if the Republic put a stethoscope to his heart</span> +<span class='i0'>and looked at his teeth and tested his eyes and said,</span> +<span class='i0'>"You are a citizen of the Republic and a sound</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_043" id="Page_043">[Pg 43]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>animal in all parts and functions—the Republic takes you"—</span> +<span class='i0'>then to-day the baskets of flowers are all for the Republic,</span> +<span class='i0'>the roses, the songs, the steamboat whistles,</span> +<span class='i0'>the proclamations of the honorable orators—</span> +<span class='i0'>they are all for the Republic.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And so to-day—they lay him away—</span> +<span class='i0'>and an understanding goes—his long sleep shall be</span> +<span class='i0'>under arms and arches near the Capitol Dome—</span> +<span class='i0'>there is an authorization—he shall have tomb companions—</span> +<span class='i0'>the martyred presidents of the Republic—</span> +<span class='i0'>the buck private—the unknown soldier—that's him.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The man who was war commander of the armies of the Republic</span> +<span class='i0'>rides down Pennsylvania Avenue—</span> +<span class='i0'>The man who is peace commander of the armies of the Republic</span> +<span class='i0'>rides down Pennsylvania Avenue—</span> +<span class='i0'>for the sake of the Boy, for the sake of the Republic.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span style='margin-left: 1.5em;'>(And the hoofs of the skeleton horses</span> +<span class='i2'>all drum soft on the asphalt footing—</span> +<span class='i2'>so soft is the drumming, so soft the roll call</span> +<span class='i2'>of the grinning sergeants calling the roll call—</span> +<span class='i2'>so soft is it all—a camera man murmurs, "Moonshine.")</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_044" id="Page_044">[Pg 44]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Look—who salutes the coffin—</span> +<span class='i0'>lays a wreath of remembrance</span> +<span class='i0'>on the box where a buck private</span> +<span class='i0'>sleeps a clean dry sleep at last—</span> +<span class='i0'>look—it is the highest ranking general</span> +<span class='i0'>of the officers of the armies of the Republic.</span> +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 0.5em; text-indent: -0.5em; width: 20em;'>(Among pigeon corners of the Congressional Library—they +file documents quietly, casually, all +in a day's work—this human document, the +buck private nobody knows the name of—they +file away in granite and steel—with music and +roses, salutes, proclamations of the honorable +orators.)</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Across the country, between two ocean shore lines,</span> +<span class='i0'>where cities cling to rail and water routes,</span> +<span class='i0'>there people and horses stop in their foot tracks,</span> +<span class='i0'>cars and wagons stop in their wheel tracks—</span> +<span class='i0'>faces at street crossings shine with a silence</span> +<span class='i0'>of eggs laid in a row on a pantry shelf—</span> +<span class='i0'>among the ways and paths of the flow of the Republic</span> +<span class='i0'>faces come to a standstill, sixty clockticks count—</span> +<span class='i0'>in the name of the Boy, in the name of the Republic.</span> +</p> + +<p style='margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 0.5em; text-indent: -0.5em; width: 20em;'>(A million faces a thousand miles from Pennsylvania Avenue +stay frozen with a look, a clocktick, a moment— +skeleton riders on skeleton horses—the nickering high horse laugh, +the whinny and the howl up Pennsylvania Avenue: +who? why? where?) +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 0.5em; text-indent: -0.5em; width: 20em;'>(So people far from the asphalt footing of +Pennsylvania Avenue look, wonder, mumble—the +riding white-jaw phantoms ride hi-eeee, +hi-eeee, hi-yi, hi-yi, hi-eeee—the proclamations +of the honorable orators mix with the top-sergeants +whistling the roll call.) +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_045" id="Page_045">[Pg 45]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>If when the clockticks counted sixty,</span> +<span class='i0'>when the heartbeats of the Republic</span> +<span class='i0'>came to a stop for a minute,</span> +<span class='i0'>if the Boy had happened to sit up,</span> +<span class='i0'>happening to sit up as Lazarus sat up, in the story,</span> +<span class='i0'>then the first shivering language to drip off his mouth</span> +<span class='i0'>might have come as, "Thank God," or "Am I dreaming?"</span> +<span class='i0'>or "What the hell" or "When do we eat?"</span> +<span class='i0'>or "Kill 'em, kill 'em, the..."</span> +<span class='i0'>or "Was that ... a rat ... ran over my face?"</span> +<span class='i0'>or "For Christ's sake, gimme water, gimme water,"</span> +<span class='i0'>or "Blub blub, bloo bloo...."</span> +<span class='i0'>or any bubbles of shell shock gibberish</span> +<span class='i0'>from the gashes of No Man's Land.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Maybe some buddy knows,</span> +<span class='i0'>some sister, mother, sweetheart,</span> +<span class='i0'>maybe some girl who sat with him once</span> +<span class='i0'>when a two-horn silver moon</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_046" id="Page_046">[Pg 46]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>slid on the peak of a house-roof gable,</span> +<span class='i0'>and promises lived in the air of the night,</span> +<span class='i0'>when the air was filled with promises,</span> +<span class='i0'>when any little slip-shoe lovey</span> +<span class='i0'>could pick a promise out of the air.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'>"Feed it to 'em,</span> +<span class='i2'>they lap it up,</span> +<span class='i2'>bull ... bull ... bull,"</span> +<span class='i0'>Said a movie news reel camera man,</span> +<span class='i0'>Said a Washington newspaper correspondent,</span> +<span class='i0'>Said a baggage handler lugging a trunk,</span> +<span class='i0'>Said a two-a-day vaudeville juggler,</span> +<span class='i0'>Said a hanky-pank selling jumping-jacks.</span> +<span class='i0'>"Hokum—they lap it up," said the bunch.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And a tall scar-face ball player,</span> +<span class='i0'>Played out as a ball player,</span> +<span class='i0'>Made a speech of his own for the hero boy,</span> +<span class='i0'>Sent an earful of his own to the dead buck private:</span> +<span class='i2'>"It's all safe now, buddy,</span> +<span class='i2'>Safe when you say yes,</span> +<span class='i2'>Safe for the yes-men."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>He was a tall scar-face battler</span> +<span class='i0'>With his face in a newspaper</span> +<span class='i0'>Reading want ads, reading jokes,</span> +<span class='i0'>Reading love, murder, politics,</span> +<span class='i0'>Jumping from jokes back to the want ads,</span> +<span class='i0'>Reading the want ads first and last,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_047" id="Page_047">[Pg 47]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>The letters of the word JOB, "J-O-B,"</span> +<span class='i0'>Burnt like a shot of bootleg booze</span> +<span class='i0'>In the bones of his head—</span> +<span class='i0'>In the wish of his scar-face eyes.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The honorable orators,</span> +<span class='i0'>Always the honorable orators,</span> +<span class='i0'>Buttoning the buttons on their prinz alberts,</span> +<span class='i0'>Pronouncing the syllables "sac-ri-fice,"</span> +<span class='i0'>Juggling those bitter salt-soaked syllables—</span> +<span class='i0'>Do they ever gag with hot ashes in their mouths?</span> +<span class='i0'>Do their tongues ever shrivel with a pain of fire</span> +<span class='i0'>Across those simple syllables "sac-ri-fice"?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>(There was one orator people far off saw.</span> +<span class='i0'>He had on a gunnysack shirt over his bones,</span> +<span class='i0'>And he lifted an elbow socket over his head,</span> +<span class='i0'>And he lifted a skinny signal finger.</span> +<span class='i0'>And he had nothing to say, nothing easy—</span> +<span class='i0' style='width: 20em;'>He mentioned ten million men, mentioned them as having gone west, mentioned them as shoving up the daisies.</span> +<span class='i0'>We could write it all on a postage stamp, what he said.</span> +<span class='i0'>He said it and quit and faded away,</span> +<span class='i0'>A gunnysack shirt on his bones.)</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'>Stars of the night sky,</span> +<span class='i2'>did you see that phantom fadeout,</span> +<span class='i2'>did you see those phantom riders,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_048" id="Page_048">[Pg 48]</a></span> +<span class='i2'>skeleton riders on skeleton horses,</span> +<span class='i2'>stems of roses in their teeth,</span> +<span class='i2'>rose leaves red on white-jaw slants,</span> +<span class='i2'>grinning along on Pennsylvania Avenue,</span> +<span class='i2'>the top-sergeants calling roll calls—</span> +<span class='i2'>did their horses nicker a horse laugh?</span> +<span class='i2'>did the ghosts of the boney battalions</span> +<span class='i2'>move out and on, up the Potomac, over on the Ohio</span> +<span class='i2'>and out to the Mississippi, the Missouri, the Red River,</span> +<span class='i2'>and down to the Rio Grande, and on to the Yazoo,</span> +<span class='i2'>over to the Chattahoochee and up to the Rappahannock?</span> +<span class='i2'>did you see 'em, stars of the night sky?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'>And so to-day—they lay him away—</span> +<span class='i2'>the boy nobody knows the name of—</span> +<span class='i2'>they lay him away in granite and steel—</span> +<span class='i2'>with music and roses—under a flag—</span> +<span class='i2'>under a sky of promises.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_049" id="Page_049">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="CALIFORNIA_CITY_LANDSCAPE" id="CALIFORNIA_CITY_LANDSCAPE"></a>CALIFORNIA CITY LANDSCAPE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>On a mountain-side the real estate agents</span> +<span class='i0'>Put up signs marking the city lots to be sold there.</span> +<span class='i0'>A man whose father and mother were Irish</span> +<span class='i0'>Ran a goat farm half-way down the mountain;</span> +<span class='i0'>He drove a covered wagon years ago,</span> +<span class='i0'>Understood how to handle a rifle,</span> +<span class='i0'>Shot grouse, buffalo, Indians, in a single year,</span> +<span class='i0'>And now was raising goats around a shanty.</span> +<span class='i0'>Down at the foot of the mountain</span> +<span class='i0'>Two Japanese families had flower farms.</span> +<span class='i0'>A man and woman were in rows of sweet peas</span> +<span class='i0'>Picking the pink and white flowers</span> +<span class='i0'>To put in baskets and take to the Los Angeles market.</span> +<span class='i0'>They were clean as what they handled</span> +<span class='i0'>There in the morning sun, the big people and the baby-faces.</span> +<span class='i0'>Across the road, high on another mountain,</span> +<span class='i0'>Stood a house saying, "I am it," a commanding house.</span> +<span class='i0'>There was the home of a motion picture director</span> +<span class='i0'>Famous for lavish whore-house interiors,</span> +<span class='i0'>Clothes ransacked from the latest designs for women</span> +<span class='i0'>In the combats of "male against female."</span> +<span class='i0'>The mountain, the scenery, the layout of the landscape,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the peace of the morning sun as it happened,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_050" id="Page_050">[Pg 50]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>The miles of houses pocketed in the valley beyond—</span> +<span class='i0'>It was all worth looking at, worth wondering about,</span> +<span class='i0'>How long it might last, how young it might be.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_051" id="Page_051">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="UPSTREAM" id="UPSTREAM"></a>UPSTREAM</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The strong men keep coming on.</span> +<span class='i0'>They go down shot, hanged, sick, broken.</span> +<span class='i0'>They live on, fighting, singing, lucky as plungers.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The strong men ... they keep coming on.</span> +<span class='i0' style='width: 20em;'>The strong mothers pulling them from a dark sea, a great prairie, a long mountain.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Call hallelujah, call amen, call deep thanks.</span> +<span class='i0'>The strong men keep coming on.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_052" id="Page_052">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="WINDFLOWER_LEAF" id="WINDFLOWER_LEAF"></a>WINDFLOWER LEAF</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>This flower is repeated</span> +<span class='i0'>out of old winds, out of</span> +<span class='i0'>old times.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The wind repeats these, it</span> +<span class='i0'>must have these, over and</span> +<span class='i0'>over again.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Oh, windflowers so fresh,</span> +<span class='i0'>Oh, beautiful leaves, here</span> +<span class='i0'>now again.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>The domes over</span> +<span class='i1'>fall to pieces.</span> +<span class='i1'>The stones under</span> +<span class='i1'>fall to pieces.</span> +<span class='i1'>Rain and ice</span> +<span class='i1'>wreck the works.</span> +<span class='i0'>The wind keeps, the windflowers</span> +<span class='i1'>keep, the leaves last,</span> +<span class='i0'>The wind young and strong lets</span> +<span class='i1'>these last longer than stones.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_053" id="Page_053">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_054" id="Page_054">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_055" id="Page_055">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VACHEL_LINDSAY" id="VACHEL_LINDSAY"></a>VACHEL LINDSAY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="IN_PRAISE_OF_JOHNNY_APPLESEED1" id="IN_PRAISE_OF_JOHNNY_APPLESEED1"></a>IN PRAISE OF JOHNNY APPLESEED<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + +<p class='center'>(<i>Born 1775. Died 1847</i>)</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The best account of John Chapman's career, under the +name "Johnny Appleseed," is to be found in <i>Harper's Monthly +Magazine</i>, November, 1871.</p></div> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='center'>I. <span class="smcap">Over the Appalachian Barricade</span> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<div class="sidenote" style='padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;'><p><i>To be read like old leaves on the elm tree of Time.</i></p> +<p><i>Sifting soft winds with sentence and rhyme.</i></p></div> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>In the days of President Washington,</span> +<span class='i0'>The glory of the nations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Dust and ashes,</span> +<span class='i0'>Snow and sleet,</span> +<span class='i0'>And hay and oats and wheat,</span> +<span class='i0'>Blew west,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>Found the glades of rotting leaves, the soft deer-pastures,</span> +<span class='i0'>The farms of the far-off future</span> +<span class='i0'>In the forest.</span> +<span class='i0'>Colts jumped the fence,</span> +<span class='i0'>Snorting, ramping, snapping, sniffing,</span> +<span class='i0'>With gastronomic calculations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>The east walls of our citadel,</span> +<span class='i0'>And turned to gold-horned unicorns,</span> +<span class='i0'>Feasting in the dim, volunteer farms of the forest.</span> +<span class='i0'>Stripedest, kickingest kittens escaped,</span> +<span class='i0'>Caterwauling "Yankee Doodle Dandy,"</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_056" id="Page_056">[Pg 56]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Renounced their poor relations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>And turned to tiny tigers</span> +<span class='i0'>In the humorous forest.</span> +<span class='i0'>Chickens escaped</span> +<span class='i0'>From farmyard congregations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>And turned to amber trumpets</span> +<span class='i0'>On the ramparts of our Hoosiers' nest and citadel,</span> +<span class='i0'>Millennial heralds</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the foggy mazy forest.</span> +<span class='i0'>Pigs broke loose, scrambled west,</span> +<span class='i0'>Scorned their loathsome stations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>Turned to roaming, foaming wild boars</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the forest.</span> +<span class='i0'>The smallest, blindest puppies toddled west</span> +<span class='i0'>While their eyes were coming open,</span> +<span class='i0'>And, with misty observations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>Barked, barked, barked</span> +<span class='i0'>At the glow-worms and the marsh lights and the lightning-bugs,</span> +<span class='i0'>And turned to ravening wolves</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the forest.</span> +<span class='i0'>Crazy parrots and canaries flew west,</span> +<span class='i0'>Drunk on May-time revelations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>And turned to delirious, flower-dressed fairies</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the lazy forest.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_057" id="Page_057">[Pg 57]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Haughtiest swans and peacocks swept west,</span> +<span class='i0'>And, despite soft derivations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>And turned to blazing warrior souls</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the forest,</span> +<span class='i0'>Singing the ways</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the Ancient of Days.</span> +<span class='i0'>And the "Old Continentals</span> +<span class='i0'>In their ragged regimentals,"</span> +<span class='i0'>With bard's imaginations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians.</span> +<span class='i0'>And</span> +<span class='i0'>A boy</span> +<span class='i0'>Blew west</span> +<span class='i0'>And with prayers and incantations,</span> +<span class='i0'>And with "Yankee Doodle Dandy,"</span> +<span class='i0'>Crossed the Appalachians,</span> +<span class='i0'>And was "young John Chapman,"</span> +<span class='i0'>Then</span> +<span class='i0'>"Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed,"</span> +<span class='i0'>Chief of the fastnesses, dappled and vast,</span> +<span class='i0'>In a pack on his back,</span> +<span class='i0'>In a deer-hide sack,</span> +<span class='i0'>The beautiful orchards of the past,</span> +<span class='i0'>The ghosts of all the forests and the groves—</span> +<span class='i0'>In that pack on his back,</span> +<span class='i0'>In that talisman sack,</span> +<span class='i0'>To-morrow's peaches, pears and cherries,</span> +<span class='i0'>To-morrow's grapes and red raspberries,</span> +<span class='i0'>Seeds and tree souls, precious things,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_058" id="Page_058">[Pg 58]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Feathered with microscopic wings,</span> +<span class='i0'>All the outdoors the child heart knows,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the apple, green, red, and white,</span> +<span class='i0'>Sun of his day and his night—</span> +<span class='i0'>The apple allied to the thorn,</span> +<span class='i0'>Child of the rose.</span> +<span class='i0'>Porches untrod of forest houses</span> +<span class='i0'>All before him, all day long,</span> +<span class='i0'>"Yankee Doodle" his marching song;</span> +<span class='i0'>And the evening breeze</span> +<span class='i0'>Joined his psalms of praise</span> +<span class='i0'>As he sang the ways</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the Ancient of Days.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Leaving behind august Virginia,</span> +<span class='i0'>Proud Massachusetts, and proud Maine,</span> +<span class='i0'>Planting the trees that would march and train</span> +<span class='i0'>On, in his name to the great Pacific,</span> +<span class='i0'>Like Birnam wood to Dunsinane,</span> +<span class='i0'>Johnny Appleseed swept on,</span> +<span class='i0'>Every shackle gone,</span> +<span class='i0'>Loving every sloshy brake,</span> +<span class='i0'>Loving every skunk and snake,</span> +<span class='i0'>Loving every leathery weed,</span> +<span class='i0'>Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed,</span> +<span class='i0'>Master and ruler of the unicorn-ramping forest,</span> +<span class='i0'>The tiger-mewing forest,</span> +<span class='i0'>The rooster-trumpeting, boar-foaming, wolf-ravening forest,</span> +<span class='i0'>The spirit-haunted, fairy-enchanted forest,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_059" id="Page_059">[Pg 59]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Stupendous and endless,</span> +<span class='i0'>Searching its perilous ways</span> +<span class='i0'>In the name of the Ancient of Days.</span> +</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'>II. <span class="smcap">The Indians Worship Him, but He hurries on</span> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Painted kings in the midst of the clearing</span> +<span class='i0'>Heard him asking his friends the eagles</span> +<span class='i0'>To guard each planted seed and seedling.</span> +<span class='i0'>Then he was a god, to the red man's dreaming;</span> +<span class='i0'>Then the chiefs brought treasures grotesque and fair,—</span> +<span class='i0'>Magical trinkets and pipes and guns,</span> +<span class='i0'>Beads and furs from their medicine-lair,—</span> +<span class='i0'>Stuck holy feathers in his hair,</span> +<span class='i0'>Hailed him with austere delight.</span> +<span class='i0'>The orchard god was their guest through the night.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>While the late snow blew from bleak Lake Erie,</span> +<span class='i0'>Scourging rock and river and reed,</span> +<span class='i0'>All night long they made great medicine</span> +<span class='i0'>For Jonathan Chapman,</span> +<span class='i0'>Johnny Appleseed,</span> +<span class='i0'>Johnny Appleseed;</span> +<span class='i0'>And as though his heart were a wind-blown wheat-sheaf,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_060" id="Page_060">[Pg 60]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>As though his heart were a new-built nest,</span> +<span class='i0'>As though their heaven house were his breast,</span> +<span class='i0'>In swept the snow-birds singing glory.</span> +<span class='i0'>And I hear his bird heart beat its story,</span> +<span class='i0'>Hear yet how the ghost of the forest shivers,</span> +<span class='i0'>Hear yet the cry of the gray, old orchards,</span> +<span class='i0'>Dim and decaying by the rivers,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the timid wings of the bird-ghosts beating,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the ghosts of the tom-toms beating, beating.</span> +</p> + +<div class="sidenote" style='padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;'><p><i>While you read, hear the hoof-beats of deer in the snow.</i></p> +<p><i>And see, by their track, bleeding footprints we know.</i></p></div> + +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>But he left their wigwams and their love.</span> +<span class='i0'>By the hour of dawn he was proud and stark,</span> +<span class='i0'>Kissed the Indian babes with a sigh,</span> +<span class='i0'>Went forth to live on roots and bark,</span> +<span class='i0'>Sleep in the trees, while the years howled by—</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Calling the catamounts by name,</span> +<span class='i0'>And buffalo bulls no hand could tame,</span> +<span class='i0'>Slaying never a living creature,</span> +<span class='i0'>Joining the birds in every game,</span> +<span class='i0'>With the gorgeous turkey gobblers mocking,</span> +<span class='i0'>With the lean-necked eagles boxing and shouting;</span> +<span class='i0'>Sticking their feathers in his hair,—</span> +<span class='i0'>Turkey feathers,</span> +<span class='i0'>Eagle feathers,—</span> +<span class='i0'>Trading hearts with all beasts and weathers</span> +<span class='i0'>He swept on, winged and wonder-crested,</span> +<span class='i0'>Bare-armed, barefooted, and bare-breasted.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_061" id="Page_061">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<div class="sidenote" style='padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;'><p><i>While you read, see conventions of deer go by.</i></p> +<p><i>The bucks toss their horns, the fuzzy fawns fly.</i></p></div> + +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The maples, shedding their spinning seeds,</span> +<span class='i0'>Called to his appleseeds in the ground,</span> +<span class='i0'>Vast chestnut-trees, with their butterfly nations,</span> +<span class='i0'>Called to his seeds without a sound.</span> +<span class='i0'>And the chipmunk turned a "summer-set,"</span> +<span class='i0'>And the foxes danced the Virginia reel;</span> +<span class='i0'>Hawthorne and crab-thorn bent, rain-wet,</span> +<span class='i0'>And dropped their flowers in his night-black hair;</span> +<span class='i0'>And the soft fawns stopped for his perorations;</span> +<span class='i0'>And his black eyes shone through the forest-gleam,</span> +<span class='i0'>And he plunged young hands into new-turned earth,</span> +<span class='i0'>And prayed dear orchard boughs into birth;</span> +<span class='i0'>And he ran with the rabbit and slept with the stream.</span> +<span class='i0'>And he ran with the rabbit and slept with the stream.</span> +<span class='i0'>And so for us he made great medicine,</span> +<span class='i0'>And so for us he made great medicine,</span> +<span class='i0'>In the days of President Washington.</span> +</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'>III. <span class="smcap">Johnny Appleseed's Old Age</span> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> + +<div class="sidenote" style='padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;'><p><i>To be read like faint hoof-beats of fawns long gone</i></p> +<p><i>From respectable pasture, and park and lawn,</i></p> +<p><i>And heartbeats of fawns that are coming again</i></p> +<p><i>When the forest, once more, is the master of men.</i></p></div> + +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Long, long after,</span> +<span class='i0'>When settlers put up beam and rafter,</span> +<span class='i0'>They asked of the birds: "Who gave this fruit?</span> +<span class='i0'>Who watched this fence till the seeds took root?</span> +<span class='i0'>Who gave these boughs?" They asked the sky,</span> +<span class='i0'>And there was no reply.</span> +<span class='i0'>But the robin might have said,</span> +<span class='i0'>"To the farthest West he has followed the sun,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_062" id="Page_062">[Pg 62]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>His life and his empire just begun."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Self-scourged, like a monk, with a throne for wages,</span> +<span class='i0'>Stripped like the iron-souled Hindu sages,</span> +<span class='i0'>Draped like a statue, in strings like a scarecrow,</span> +<span class='i0'>His helmet-hat an old tin pan,</span> +<span class='i0'>But worn in the love of the heart of man,</span> +<span class='i0'>More sane than the helm of Tamerlane,</span> +<span class='i0'>Hairy Ainu, wild man of Borneo, Robinson Crusoe—Johnny Appleseed;</span> +<span class='i0'>And the robin might have said,</span> +<span class='i0'>"Sowing, he goes to the far, new West,</span> +<span class='i0'>With the apple, the sun of his burning breast—</span> +<span class='i0'>The apple allied to the thorn,</span> +<span class='i0'>Child of the rose."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Washington buried in Virginia,</span> +<span class='i0'>Jackson buried in Tennessee,</span> +<span class='i0'>Young Lincoln, brooding in Illinois,</span> +<span class='i0'>And Johnny Appleseed, priestly and free,</span> +<span class='i0'>Knotted and gnarled, past seventy years,</span> +<span class='i0'>Still planted on in the woods alone.</span> +<span class='i0'>Ohio and young Indiana—</span> +<span class='i0'>These were his wide altar-stone,</span> +<span class='i0'>Where still he burnt out flesh and bone.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_063" id="Page_063">[Pg 63]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Twenty days ahead of the Indian, twenty years ahead of the white man,</span> +<span class='i0'>At last the Indian overtook him, at last the Indian hurried past him;</span> +<span class='i0'>At last the white man overtook him, at last the white man hurried past him;</span> +<span class='i0'>At last his own trees overtook him, at last his own trees hurried past him.</span> +<span class='i0'>Many cats were tame again,</span> +<span class='i0'>Many ponies tame again,</span> +<span class='i0'>Many pigs were tame again,</span> +<span class='i0'>Many canaries tame again;</span> +<span class='i0'>And the real frontier was his sun-burnt breast.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>From the fiery core of that apple, the earth,</span> +<span class='i0'>Sprang apple-amaranths divine.</span> +<span class='i0'>Love's orchards climbed to the heavens of the West,</span> +<span class='i0'>And snowed the earthly sod with flowers.</span> +<span class='i0'>Farm hands from the terraces of the blest</span> +<span class='i0'>Danced on the mists with their ladies fine;</span> +<span class='i0'>And Johnny Appleseed laughed with his dreams,</span> +<span class='i0'>And swam once more the ice-cold streams.</span> +<span class='i0'>And the doves of the spirit swept through the hours,</span> +<span class='i0'>With doom-calls, love-calls, death-calls, dream-calls;</span> +<span class='i0'>And Johnny Appleseed, all that year,</span> +<span class='i0'>Lifted his hands to the farm-filled sky,</span> +<span class='i0'>To the apple-harvesters busy on high;</span> +<span class='i0'>And so once more his youth began,</span> +<span class='i0'>And so for us he made great medicine—</span> +<span class='i0'>Johnny Appleseed, medicine-man.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_064" id="Page_064">[Pg 64]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Then</span> +<span class='i0'>The sun was his turned-up broken barrel,</span> +<span class='i0'>Out of which his juicy apples rolled,</span> +<span class='i0'>Down the repeated terraces,</span> +<span class='i0'>Thumping across the gold,</span> +<span class='i0'>An angel in each apple that touched the forest mold,</span> +<span class='i0'>A ballot-box in each apple,</span> +<span class='i0'>A state capital in each apple,</span> +<span class='i0'>Great high schools, great colleges,</span> +<span class='i0'>All America in each apple,</span> +<span class='i0'>Each red, rich, round, and bouncing moon</span> +<span class='i0'>That touched the forest mold.</span> +<span class='i0'>Like scrolls and rolled-up flags of silk,</span> +<span class='i0'>He saw the fruits unfold,</span> +<span class='i0'>And all our expectations in one wild-flower-written dream,</span> +<span class='i0'>Confusion and death sweetness, and a thicket of crab-thorns,</span> +<span class='i0'>Heart of a hundred midnights, heart of the merciful morns.</span> +<span class='i0'>Heaven's boughs bent down with their alchemy,</span> +<span class='i0'>Perfumed airs, and thoughts of wonder.</span> +<span class='i0'>And the dew on the grass and his own cold tears</span> +<span class='i0'>Were one in brooding mystery,</span> +<span class='i0'>Though death's loud thunder came upon him,</span> +<span class='i0'>Though death's loud thunder struck him down—</span> +<span class='i0'>The boughs and the proud thoughts swept through the thunder,</span> +<span class='i0'>Till he saw our wide nation, each State a flower,</span> +<span class='i0'>Each petal a park for holy feet,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_065" id="Page_065">[Pg 65]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>With wild fawns merry on every street,</span> +<span class='i0'>With wild fawns merry on every street,</span> +<span class='i0'>The vista of ten thousand years, flower-lighted and complete.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Hear the lazy weeds murmuring, bays and rivers whispering,</span> +<span class='i0'>From Michigan to Texas, California to Maine;</span> +<span class='i0'>Listen to the eagles, screaming, calling,</span> +<span class='i0'>"Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed,"</span> +<span class='i0'>There by the doors of old Fort Wayne.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>In the four-poster bed Johnny Appleseed built,</span> +<span class='i0'>Autumn rains were the curtains, autumn leaves were the quilt.</span> +<span class='i0'>He laid him down sweetly, and slept through the night,</span> +<span class='i0'>Like a bump on a log, like a stone washed white,</span> +<span class='i0'>There by the doors of old Fort Wayne.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_066" id="Page_066">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="I_KNOW_ALL_THIS_WHEN_GIPSY" id="I_KNOW_ALL_THIS_WHEN_GIPSY"></a> +I KNOW ALL THIS WHEN GIPSY FIDDLES CRY</h2> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Oh, gipsies, proud and stiff-necked and perverse,</span> +<span class='i0'>Saying: "We tell the fortunes of the nations,</span> +<span class='i0'>And revel in the deep palm of the world.</span> +<span class='i0'>The head-line is the road we choose for trade.</span> +<span class='i0'>The love-line is the lane wherein we camp.</span> +<span class='i0'>The life-line is the road we wander on.</span> +<span class='i0'>Mount Venus, Jupiter, and all the rest</span> +<span class='i0'>Are finger-tips of ranges clasping round</span> +<span class='i0'>And holding up the Romany's wide sky."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Oh, gipsies, proud and stiff-necked and perverse,</span> +<span class='i0'>Saying: "We will swap horses till the doom,</span> +<span class='i0'>And mend the pots and kettles of mankind,</span> +<span class='i0'>And lend our sons to big-time vaudeville,</span> +<span class='i0'>Or to the race-track, or the learned world.</span> +<span class='i0'>But India's Brahma waits within their breasts.</span> +<span class='i0'>They will return to us with gipsy grins,</span> +<span class='i0'>And chatter Romany, and shake their curls</span> +<span class='i0'>And hug the dirtiest babies in the camp.</span> +<span class='i0'>They will return to the moving pillar of smoke,</span> +<span class='i0'>The whitest toothed, the merriest laughers known,</span> +<span class='i0'>The blackest haired of all the tribes of men.</span> +<span class='i0'>What trap can hold such cats? The Romany</span> +<span class='i0'>Has crossed such delicate palms with lead or gold,</span> +<span class='i0'>Wheedling in sun and rain, through perilous years,</span> +<span class='i0'>All coins now look alike. The palm is all.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_067" id="Page_067">[Pg 67]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Our greasy pack of cards is still the book</span> +<span class='i0'>Most read of men. The heart's librarians,</span> +<span class='i0'>We tell all lovers what they want to know.</span> +<span class='i0'>So, out of the famed Chicago Library,</span> +<span class='i0'>Out of the great Chicago orchestras,</span> +<span class='i0'>Out of the skyscraper, the Fine Arts Building,</span> +<span class='i0'>Our sons will come with fiddles and with loot,</span> +<span class='i0'>Dressed, as of old, like turkey-cocks and zebras,</span> +<span class='i0'>Like tiger-lilies and chameleons,</span> +<span class='i0'>Go west with us to California,</span> +<span class='i0'>Telling the fortunes of the bleeding world,</span> +<span class='i0'>And kiss the sunset, ere their day is done."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Oh, gipsies, proud and stiff-necked and perverse,</span> +<span class='i0'>Picking the brains and pockets of mankind,</span> +<span class='i0'>You will go westward for one-half hour yet.</span> +<span class='i0'>You will turn eastward in a little while.</span> +<span class='i0'>You will go back, as men turn to Kentucky,</span> +<span class='i0'>Land of their fathers, dark and bloody ground.</span> +<span class='i0'>When all the Jews go home to Syria,</span> +<span class='i0'>When Chinese cooks go back to Canton, China,</span> +<span class='i0'>When Japanese photographers return</span> +<span class='i0'>With their black cameras to Tokio,</span> +<span class='i0'>And Irish patriots to Donegal,</span> +<span class='i0'>And Scotch accountants back to Edinburgh,</span> +<span class='i0'>You will go back to India, whence you came.</span> +<span class='i0'>When you have reached the borders of your quest,</span> +<span class='i0'>Homesick at last, by many a devious way,</span> +<span class='i0'>Winding the wonderlands circuitous,</span> +<span class='i0'>By foot and horse will trace the long way back!</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_068" id="Page_068">[Pg 68]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Fiddling for ocean liners, while the dance</span> +<span class='i0'>Sweeps through the decks, your brown tribes all will go!</span> +<span class='i0'>Those east-bound ships will hear your long farewell</span> +<span class='i0'>On fiddle, piccolo, and flute and timbrel.</span> +<span class='i0'>I know all this, when gipsy fiddles cry.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>That hour of their homesickness, I myself</span> +<span class='i0'>Will turn, will say farewell to Illinois,</span> +<span class='i0'>To old Kentucky and Virginia,</span> +<span class='i0'>And go with them to India, whence they came.</span> +<span class='i0'>For they have heard a singing from the Ganges,</span> +<span class='i0'>And cries of orioles,—from the temple caves,—</span> +<span class='i0'>And Bengal's oldest, humblest villages.</span> +<span class='i0'>They smell the supper smokes of Amritsar.</span> +<span class='i0'>Green monkeys cry in Sanskrit to their souls</span> +<span class='i0'>From lofty bamboo trees of hot Madras.</span> +<span class='i0'>They think of towns to ease their feverish eyes,</span> +<span class='i0'>And make them stand and meditate forever,</span> +<span class='i0'>Domes of astonishment, to heal the mind.</span> +<span class='i0'>I know all this, when gipsy fiddles cry.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What music will be blended with the wind</span> +<span class='i0'>When gipsy fiddlers, nearing that old land,</span> +<span class='i0'>Bring tunes from all the world to Brahma's house?</span> +<span class='i0'>Passing the Indus, winding poisonous forests,</span> +<span class='i0'>Blowing soft flutes at scandalous temple girls,</span> +<span class='i0'>Filling the highways with their magpie loot,</span> +<span class='i0'>What brass from my Chicago will they heap,</span> +<span class='i0'>What gems from Walla Walla, Omaha,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_069" id="Page_069">[Pg 69]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Will they pile near the Bodhi Tree, and laugh?</span> +<span class='i0'>They will dance near such temples as best suit them,</span> +<span class='i0'>Though they will not quite enter, or adore,</span> +<span class='i0'>Looking on roofs, as poets look on lilies,</span> +<span class='i0'>Looking at towers, as boys at forest vines,</span> +<span class='i0'>That leap to tree-tops through the dizzy air.</span> +<span class='i0'>I know all this, when gipsy fiddles cry.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And with the gipsies there will be a king</span> +<span class='i0'>And a thousand desperadoes just his style,</span> +<span class='i0'>With all their rags dyed in the blood of roses,</span> +<span class='i0'>Splashed with the blood of angels, and of demons.</span> +<span class='i0'>And he will boss them with an awful voice.</span> +<span class='i0'>And with a red whip he will beat his wife.</span> +<span class='i0'>He will be wicked on that sacred shore,</span> +<span class='i0'>And rattle cruel spurs against the rocks,</span> +<span class='i0'>And shake Calcutta's walls with circus bugles.</span> +<span class='i0'>He will kill Brahmins there, in Kali's name,</span> +<span class='i0'>And please the thugs, and blood-drunk of the earth.</span> +<span class='i0'>I know all this, when gipsy fiddles cry.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Oh, sweating thieves, and hard-boiled scalawags,</span> +<span class='i0'>That still will boast your pride until the doom,</span> +<span class='i0'>Smashing every caste rule of the world,</span> +<span class='i0'>Reaching at last your Hindu goal to smash</span> +<span class='i0'>The caste rules of old India, and shout:</span> +<span class='i0'>"Down with the Brahmins, let the Romany reign."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>When gipsy girls look deep within my hand</span> +<span class='i0'>They always speak so tenderly and say</span> +<span class='i0'>That I am one of those star-crossed to wed</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_070" id="Page_070">[Pg 70]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>A princess in a forest fairy-tale.</span> +<span class='i0'>So there will be a tender gipsy princess,</span> +<span class='i0'>My Juliet, shining through this clan.</span> +<span class='i0'>And I would sing you of her beauty now.</span> +<span class='i0'>And I will fight with knives the gipsy man</span> +<span class='i0'>Who tries to steal her wild young heart away.</span> +<span class='i0'>And I will kiss her in the waterfalls,</span> +<span class='i0'>And at the rainbow's end, and in the incense</span> +<span class='i0'>That curls about the feet of sleeping gods,</span> +<span class='i0'>And sing with her in canebrakes and in rice fields,</span> +<span class='i0'>In Romany, eternal Romany.</span> +<span class='i0'>We will sow secret herbs, and plant old roses,</span> +<span class='i0'>And fumble through dark, snaky palaces,</span> +<span class='i0'>Stable our ponies in the Taj Mahal,</span> +<span class='i0'>And sleep out-doors ourselves.</span> +<span class='i0'>In her strange fairy mill-wheel eyes will wait</span> +<span class='i0'>All windings and unwindings of the highways,</span> +<span class='i0'>From India, across America,—</span> +<span class='i0'>All windings and unwindings of my fancy,</span> +<span class='i0'>All windings and unwindings of all souls,</span> +<span class='i0'>All windings and unwindings of the heavens.</span> +<span class='i0'>I know all this, when gipsy fiddles cry.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>We gipsies, proud and stiff-necked and perverse,</span> +<span class='i0'>Standing upon the white Himalayas,</span> +<span class='i0'>Will think of far divine Yosemite.</span> +<span class='i0'>We will heal Hindu hermits there with oil</span> +<span class='i0'>Brought from California's tall sequoias.</span> +<span class='i0'>And we will be like gods that heap the thunders,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_071" id="Page_071">[Pg 71]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>And start young redwood trees on Time's own mountains.</span> +<span class='i0'>We will swap horses with the rising moon,</span> +<span class='i0'>And mend that funny skillet called Orion,</span> +<span class='i0'>Color the stars like San Francisco's street-lights,</span> +<span class='i0'>And paint our sign and signature on high</span> +<span class='i0'>In planets like a bed of crimson pansies;</span> +<span class='i0'>While a million fiddles shake all listening hearts,</span> +<span class='i0'>Crying good fortune to the Universe,</span> +<span class='i0'>Whispering adventure to the Ganges waves,</span> +<span class='i0'>And to the spirits, and all winds and gods.</span> +<span class='i0'>Till mighty Brahma puts his golden palm</span> +<span class='i0'>Within the gipsy king's great striped tent,</span> +<span class='i0'>And asks his fortune told by that great love-line</span> +<span class='i0'>That winds across his palm in splendid flame.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Only the hearthstone of old India</span> +<span class='i0'>Will end the endless march of gipsy feet.</span> +<span class='i0'>I will go back to India with them</span> +<span class='i0'>When they go back to India whence they came.</span> +<span class='i0'>I know all this, when gipsy fiddles cry.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_072" id="Page_072">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="JAMES_OPPENHEIM" id="JAMES_OPPENHEIM"></a>JAMES OPPENHEIM</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_075" id="Page_075">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="HEBREWS" id="HEBREWS"></a>HEBREWS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I come of a mighty race.... I come of a very mighty race....</span> +<span class='i0'>Adam was a mighty man, and Noah a captain of the moving waters,</span> +<span class='i0'>Moses was a stern and splendid king, yea, so was Moses....</span> +<span class='i0'>Give me more songs like David's to shake my throat to the pit of the belly,</span> +<span class='i0'>And let me roll in the Isaiah thunder....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Ho! the mightiest of our young men was born under a star in the midwinter....</span> +<span class='i0'>His name is written on the sun and it is frosted on the moon....</span> +<span class='i0'>Earth breathes him like an eternal spring: he is a second sky over the Earth.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Mighty race! mighty race!—my flesh, my flesh</span> +<span class='i0'>Is a cup of song,</span> +<span class='i0'>Is a well in Asia....</span> +<span class='i0'>I go about with a dark heart where the Ages sit in a divine thunder....</span> +<span class='i0'>My blood is cymbal-clashed and the anklets of the dancers tinkle there....</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_076" id="Page_076">[Pg 76]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Harp and psaltery, harp and psaltery make drunk my spirit....</span> +<span class='i0'>I am of the terrible people, I am of the strange Hebrews....</span> +<span class='i0'>Amongst the swarms fixed like the rooted stars, my folk is a streaming Comet,</span> +<span class='i0'>Comet of the Asian tiger-darkness,</span> +<span class='i0'>The Wanderer of Eternity, the eternal Wandering Jew....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Ho! we have turned against the mightiest of our young men</span> +<span class='i0'>And in that denial we have taken on the Christ,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the two thieves beside the Christ,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the Magdalen at the feet of the Christ,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the Judas with thirty silver pieces selling the Christ,—</span> +<span class='i0'>And our twenty centuries in Europe have the shape of a Cross</span> +<span class='i0'>On which we have hung in disaster and glory....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Mighty race! mighty race!—my flesh, my flesh</span> +<span class='i0'>Is a cup of song,</span> +<span class='i0'>Is a well in Asia.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_077" id="Page_077">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_078" id="Page_078">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ALFRED_KREYMBORG" id="ALFRED_KREYMBORG"></a>ALFRED KREYMBORG</h2> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_079" id="Page_079">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="ADAGIO_A_DUET" id="ADAGIO_A_DUET"></a>ADAGIO: A DUET</h2> + +<p class='center'>(<i>For J. S. and L. U.</i>)</p> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Should you</span> +<span class='i0'>lay ear to these lines—</span> +<span class='i0'>you will not catch</span> +<span class='i0'>a distant drum of hoofs,</span> +<span class='i0'>cavalcade of Arabians,</span> +<span class='i0'>passionate horde bearing down,</span> +<span class='i0'>destroying your citadel—</span> +<span class='i0'>but maybe you'll hear—</span> +<span class='i0'>should you just</span> +<span class='i0'>listen at the right place,</span> +<span class='i0'>hold it tenaciously,</span> +<span class='i0'>give your full blood to the effort—</span> +<span class='i0'>maybe you'll note the start</span> +<span class='i0'>of a single step,</span> +<span class='i0'>always persistently faint,</span> +<span class='i0'>wavering in its movement</span> +<span class='i0'>between coming and going,</span> +<span class='i0'>never quite arriving,</span> +<span class='i0'>never quite passing—</span> +<span class='i0'>and tell me which it is,</span> +<span class='i0'>you or I</span> +<span class='i0'>that you greet,</span> +<span class='i0'>searching a mutual being—</span> +<span class='i0'>and whether two aren't closer</span> +<span class='i0'>for the labor of an ear?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_080" id="Page_080">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="DIE_KUCHE" id="DIE_KUCHE"></a>DIE KÜCHE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>She lets the hydrant water run:</span> +<span class='i0'>He fancies lonely, banal,</span> +<span class='i0'>bald-headed mountains,</span> +<span class='i0'>affected by the daily</span> +<span class='i0'>caress of the tropical sun,</span> +<span class='i0'>weeping tears the length of brooks</span> +<span class='i0'>down their faces and flanks.</span> +<span class='i0'>She lets the hydrant water run:</span> +<span class='i0'>He hearkens Father Sebastian</span> +<span class='i0'>cooking and spreading homely themes</span> +<span class='i0'>over an inept-looking clavier</span> +<span class='i0'>confounding the wits of his children</span> +<span class='i0'>and all men's children</span> +<span class='i0'>down to the last generation.</span> +<span class='i0'>He marvels at the paradox,</span> +<span class='i0'>drums his head with the tattoo:</span> +<span class='i0'>how can a thing as small as he</span> +<span class='i0'>shape and maintain an art</span> +<span class='i0'>out of himself universal enough</span> +<span class='i0'>to carry her daily vigil</span> +<span class='i0'>to crystalled immortality?</span> +<span class='i0'>She lets the hydrant water run.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_081" id="Page_081">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="RAIN" id="RAIN"></a>RAIN</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It's all very well for you</span> +<span class='i1'>suddenly to withdraw</span> +<span class='i1'>and say, I'll come again,</span> +<span class='i0'>but what of the bruises you've left,</span> +<span class='i0'>what of the green and the blue,</span> +<span class='i1'>the yellow, purple and violet?—</span> +<span class='i0'>don't you be telling us,</span> +<span class='i1'>I'm innocent of these,</span> +<span class='i1'>irresponsible of happenings—</span> +<span class='i0'>didn't we see you steal next to her,</span> +<span class='i1'>tenderly,</span> +<span class='i1'>with your silver mist about you</span> +<span class='i1'>to hide your blandishment?—</span> +<span class='i0'>now, what of what followed, eh?—</span> +<span class='i0'>we saw you hover close,</span> +<span class='i1'>caress her,</span> +<span class='i1'>open her pore-cups,</span> +<span class='i1'>make a cross of her,</span> +<span class='i1'>quickly penetrate her—</span> +<span class='i0'>she opening to you,</span> +<span class='i1'>engulfing you,</span> +<span class='i1'>every limb of her,</span> +<span class='i1'>bud of her, pore of her?—</span> +<span class='i0'>don't call these things, kisses—</span> +<span class='i1'>mouth-kisses, hand-kisses,</span> +<span class='i1'>elbow, knee and toe,</span> +<span class='i0'>and let it go at that—</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_082" id="Page_082">[Pg 82]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>disappear and promise</span> +<span class='i1'>what you'll never perform:</span> +<span class='i0'>we've known you to slink away</span> +<span class='i1'>until drought-time,</span> +<span class='i1'>drooping-time,</span> +<span class='i1'>withering-time:</span> +<span class='i0'>we've caught you crawling off</span> +<span class='i1'>into winter-time,</span> +<span class='i1'>try to cover what you've done</span> +<span class='i1'>with a long white scarf—</span> +<span class='i0'>your own frozen tears</span> +<span class='i1'>(likely phrase!)</span> +<span class='i1'>and lilt your,</span> +<span class='i1'>I'll be back in spring!</span> +<span class='i0'>Next spring, and you know it,</span> +<span class='i1'>she won't be the same,</span> +<span class='i1'>though she may look the same</span> +<span class='i1'>to you from where you are,</span> +<span class='i1'>and invite you down again!</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_083" id="Page_083">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="PEASANT" id="PEASANT"></a>PEASANT</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It's the mixture of peasantry</span> +<span class='i1'>makes him so slow.</span> +<span class='i0'>He waggles his head</span> +<span class='i1'>before he speaks,</span> +<span class='i0'>like a cow</span> +<span class='i1'>before she crops.</span> +<span class='i0'>He bends to the habit</span> +<span class='i1'>of dragging his feet</span> +<span class='i1'>up under him,</span> +<span class='i0'>like a measuring-worm:</span> +<span class='i1'>some of his forefathers,</span> +<span class='i1'>stooped over books,</span> +<span class='i1'>ruled short straight lines</span> +<span class='i1'>under two rows of figures</span> +<span class='i1'>to keep their thin savings</span> +<span class='i1'>from sifting to the floor.</span> +<span class='i0'>Should you strike him</span> +<span class='i1'>with a question,</span> +<span class='i0'>he will blink twice or thrice</span> +<span class='i1'>and roll his head about,</span> +<span class='i0'>like an owl</span> +<span class='i1'>in the pin-pricks</span> +<span class='i1'>of a dawn he cannot see.</span> +<span class='i0'>There is mighty little flesh</span> +<span class='i1'>about his bones,</span> +<span class='i0'>there is no gusto</span> +<span class='i1'>in his stride:</span> +<span class='i0'>he seems to wait</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_084" id="Page_084">[Pg 84]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>for the blow on the buttocks</span> +<span class='i1'>that will drive him</span> +<span class='i1'>another step forward—</span> +<span class='i1'>step forward to what?</span> +<span class='i0'>There is no land,</span> +<span class='i1'>no house,</span> +<span class='i1'>no barn,</span> +<span class='i0'>he has ever owned;</span> +<span class='i0'>he sits uncomfortable</span> +<span class='i1'>on chairs</span> +<span class='i1'>you might invite him to:</span> +<span class='i0'>if you did,</span> +<span class='i1'>he'd keep his hat in hand</span> +<span class='i1'>against the moment</span> +<span class='i1'>when some silent pause</span> +<span class='i1'>for which he hearkens</span> +<span class='i1'>with his ear to one side</span> +<span class='i1'>bids him move on—</span> +<span class='i1'>move on where?</span> +<span class='i0'>It doesn't matter.</span> +<span class='i0'>He has learned</span> +<span class='i1'>to shrug his shoulders,</span> +<span class='i1'>so he'll shrug his shoulders now:</span> +<span class='i0'>caterpillars do it</span> +<span class='i1'>when they're halted by a stick.</span> +<span class='i0'>Is there a sky overhead?—</span> +<span class='i1'>a hope worth flying to?—</span> +<span class='i0'>birds may know about it,</span> +<span class='i1'>but it's birds</span> +<span class='i1'>that birds descend from.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_085" id="Page_085">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="BUBBLES" id="BUBBLES"></a>BUBBLES</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>You had best be very cautious how</span> +<span class='i0'>you say, I love you.</span> +<span class='i0'>If you accent the I,</span> +<span class='i0'>she has an opening for,</span> +<span class='i0'>who are you</span> +<span class='i0'>to strut on ahead</span> +<span class='i0'>and hint there aren't others,</span> +<span class='i0'>aren't, weren't and won't be?</span> +<span class='i0'>Blurt out the love,</span> +<span class='i0'>she has suspicion for, so?—</span> +<span class='i0'>why not hitherto?—</span> +<span class='i0'>what brings you bragging now?—</span> +<span class='i0'>and what'll it be hereafter?</span> +<span class='i0'>Defer to the you,</span> +<span class='i0'>she has certitude for, me?</span> +<span class='i0'>thanks, lad!—</span> +<span class='i0'>but why argue about it?—</span> +<span class='i0'>or fancy I'm lonesome?—</span> +<span class='i0'>do I look as though you had to?</span> +<span class='i0'>And having determined how</span> +<span class='i0'>you'll say it,</span> +<span class='i0'>you had next best ascertain whom</span> +<span class='i0'>it is that you say it to.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_086" id="Page_086">[Pg 86]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>That you're sure she's the one,</span> +<span class='i0'>that there'll never be another,</span> +<span class='i0'>never was one before.</span> +<span class='i0'>And having determined whom</span> +<span class='i0'>and having learned how,</span> +<span class='i0'>when you bring these together,</span> +<span class='i0'>inform the far of the intimate—</span> +<span class='i0'>like a bubble on a pond,</span> +<span class='i0'>emerging from below,</span> +<span class='i0'>round wonderment completed</span> +<span class='i0'>by the first sight of the sky—</span> +<span class='i0'>what good will it do,</span> +<span class='i0'>if she shouldn't, I love you?—</span> +<span class='i0'>a bubble's but a bubble once,</span> +<span class='i0'>a bubble grows to die.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_087" id="Page_087">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="DIRGE" id="DIRGE"></a>DIRGE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Death alone</span> +<span class='i0'>has sympathy for weariness:</span> +<span class='i0'>understanding</span> +<span class='i0'>of the ways</span> +<span class='i0'>of mathematics:</span> +<span class='i0'>of the struggle</span> +<span class='i0'>against giving up what was given:</span> +<span class='i0'>the plus one minus one</span> +<span class='i0'>of nitrogen for oxygen:</span> +<span class='i0'>and the unequal odds,</span> +<span class='i0'>you a cell</span> +<span class='i0'>against the universe,</span> +<span class='i0'>a breath or two</span> +<span class='i0'>against all time:</span> +<span class='i0'>Death alone</span> +<span class='i0'>takes what is left</span> +<span class='i0'>without protest, criticism</span> +<span class='i0'>or a demand for more</span> +<span class='i0'>than one can give</span> +<span class='i0'>who can give</span> +<span class='i0'>no more than was given:</span> +<span class='i0'>doesn't even ask,</span> +<span class='i0'>but accepts it as it is,</span> +<span class='i0'>without examination,</span> +<span class='i0'>valuation,</span> +<span class='i0'>or comparison.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_088" id="Page_088">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="COLOPHON" id="COLOPHON"></a>COLOPHON</h2> + +<p class='center'>(<i>For W. W.</i>)</p> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The Occident and the Orient,</span> +<span class='i0'>posterior and posterior,</span> +<span class='i0'>sitting tight, holding fast</span> +<span class='i0'>the culture dumped by them</span> +<span class='i0'>on to primitive America,</span> +<span class='i0'>Atlantic to Pacific,</span> +<span class='i0'>were monumental colophons</span> +<span class='i0'>a disorderly country fellow,</span> +<span class='i0'>vulgar Long Islander.</span> +<span class='i0'>not overfond of the stench</span> +<span class='i0'>choking native respiration,</span> +<span class='i0'>poked down off the shelf</span> +<span class='i0'>with the aid of some</span> +<span class='i0'>mere blades of grass;</span> +<span class='i0'>and deliberately climbing up,</span> +<span class='i0'>brazenly usurping one end</span> +<span class='i0'>of the new America,</span> +<span class='i0'>now waves his spears aloft</span> +<span class='i0'>and shouts down valleys,</span> +<span class='i0'>across plains,</span> +<span class='i0'>over mountains,</span> +<span class='i0'>into heights:</span> +<span class='i0'>Come, what man of you</span> +<span class='i0'>dares climb the other?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_089" id="Page_089">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_090" id="Page_090">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SARA_TEASDALE" id="SARA_TEASDALE"></a>SARA TEASDALE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="WISDOM" id="WISDOM"></a>WISDOM</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It was a night of early spring,</span> +<span class='i1'>The winter-sleep was scarcely broken;</span> +<span class='i0'>Around us shadows and the wind</span> +<span class='i1'>Listened for what was never spoken.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Though half a score of years are gone,</span> +<span class='i1'>Spring comes as sharply now as then—</span> +<span class='i0'>But if we had it all to do</span> +<span class='i1'>It would be done the same again.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It was a spring that never came;</span> +<span class='i1'>But we have lived enough to know</span> +<span class='i0'>That what we never have, remains;</span> +<span class='i1'>It is the things we have that go.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_092" id="Page_092">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="PLACES" id="PLACES"></a>PLACES</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='center'> + +I<br style='display: block;'/> + + +<span class="smcap">Twilight</span><br style='display: block;'/> + +(<i>Tucson</i>)<br style='display: block;'/> + +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Aloof as aged kings,</span> +<span class='i0'>Wearing like them the purple,</span> +<span class='i0'>The mountains ring the mesa</span> +<span class='i0'>Crowned with a dusky light;</span> +<span class='i0'>Many a time I watched</span> +<span class='i0'>That coming-on of darkness</span> +<span class='i0'>Till stars burned through the heavens</span> +<span class='i0'>Intolerably bright.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It was not long I lived there,</span> +<span class='i0'>But I became a woman</span> +<span class='i0'>Under those vehement stars,</span> +<span class='i0'>For it was there I heard</span> +<span class='i0'>For the first time my spirit</span> +<span class='i0'>Forging an iron rule for me,</span> +<span class='i0'>As though with slow cold hammers</span> +<span class='i0'>Beating out word by word:</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>"Take love when love is given,</span> +<span class='i0'>But never think to find it</span> +<span class='i0'>A sure escape from sorrow</span> +<span class='i0'>Or a complete repose;</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_093" id="Page_093">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Only yourself can heal you,</span> +<span class='i0'>Only yourself can lead you</span> +<span class='i0'>Up the hard road to heaven</span> +<span class='i0'>That ends where no one knows."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_094" id="Page_094">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'> + +II<br style='display: block;'/> + +<span class="smcap">Full Moon</span><br style='display: block;'/> + +(<i>Santa Barbara</i>)<br style='display: block;'/> + +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I listened, there was not a sound to hear</span> +<span class='i1'>In the great rain of moonlight pouring down,</span> +<span class='i0'>The eucalyptus trees were carved in silver,</span> +<span class='i1'>And a light mist of silver lulled the town.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I saw far off the gray Pacific bearing</span> +<span class='i1'>A broad white disk of flame,</span> +<span class='i0'>And on the garden-walk a snail beside me</span> +<span class='i1'>Tracing in crystal the slow way he came.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_095" id="Page_095">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'> + +III<br style='display: block;'/> + +<span class="smcap">Winter Sun</span><br style='display: block;'/> + +(<i>Lenox</i>)<br style='display: block;'/> + +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>There was a bush with scarlet berries,</span> +<span class='i1'>And there were hemlocks heaped with snow,</span> +<span class='i0'>With a sound like surf on long sea-beaches</span> +<span class='i1'>They took the wind and let it go.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The hills were shining in their samite,</span> +<span class='i1'>Fold after fold they flowed away;</span> +<span class='i0'>"Let come what may," your eyes were saying,</span> +<span class='i1'>"At least we two have had to-day."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_096" id="Page_096">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'> + +IV<br style='display: block;'/> + +<span class='smcap'>Evening</span><br style='display: block;'/> + +(<i>Nahant</i>)<br style='display: block;'/> + +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>There was an evening when the sky was clear,</span> +<span class='i1'>Ineffably translucent in its blue;</span> +<span class='i1'>The tide was falling, and the sea withdrew</span> +<span class='i0'>In hushed and happy music from the sheer</span> +<span class='i0'>Shadowy granite of the cliffs; and fear</span> +<span class='i1'>Of what life may be, and what death can do,</span> +<span class='i1'>Fell from us like steel armor, and we knew</span> +<span class='i0'>The beauty of the Law that holds us here.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It was as though we saw the Secret Will,</span> +<span class='i1'>It was as though we floated and were free;</span> +<span class='i2'>In the south-west a planet shone serenely,</span> +<span class='i2'>And the high moon, most reticent and queenly,</span> +<span class='i0'>Seeing the earth had darkened and grown still,</span> +<span class='i1'>Misted with light the meadows of the sea.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_097" id="Page_097">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="WORDS_FOR_AN_OLD_AIR" id="WORDS_FOR_AN_OLD_AIR"></a>WORDS FOR AN OLD AIR</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Your heart is bound tightly, let</span> +<span class='i1'>Beauty beware;</span> +<span class='i0'>It is not hers to set</span> +<span class='i1'>Free from the snare.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Tell her a bleeding hand</span> +<span class='i1'>Bound it and tied it;</span> +<span class='i0'>Tell her the knot will stand</span> +<span class='i1'>Though she deride it.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>One who withheld so long</span> +<span class='i1'>All that you yearned to take,</span> +<span class='i0'>Has made a snare too strong</span> +<span class='i1'>For Beauty's self to break.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_098" id="Page_098">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THOSE_WHO_LOVE" id="THOSE_WHO_LOVE"></a>THOSE WHO LOVE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Those who love the most</span> +<span class='i0'>Do not talk of their love;</span> +<span class='i0'>Francesca, Guenevere,</span> +<span class='i0'>Dierdre, Iseult, Heloise</span> +<span class='i0'>In the fragrant gardens of heaven</span> +<span class='i0'>Are silent, or speak, if at all,</span> +<span class='i0'>Of fragile, inconsequent things.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And a woman I used to know</span> +<span class='i0'>Who loved one man from her youth,</span> +<span class='i0'>Against the strength of the fates</span> +<span class='i0'>Fighting in lonely pride,</span> +<span class='i0'>Never spoke of this thing,</span> +<span class='i0'>But hearing his name by chance,</span> +<span class='i0'>A light would pass over her face.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_099" id="Page_099">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="TWO_SONGS_FOR_SOLITUDE" id="TWO_SONGS_FOR_SOLITUDE"></a>TWO SONGS FOR SOLITUDE</h2> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='center'> +I<br style='display: block;' /> + +<span class="smcap">The Crystal Gazer</span><br style='display: block;' /> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I shall gather myself into myself again,</span> +<span class='i1'>I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,</span> +<span class='i0'>I shall fuse them into a polished crystal ball</span> +<span class='i1'>Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I shall sit like a sibyl, hour after hour intent,</span> +<span class='i1'>Watching the future come and the present go—</span> +<span class='i0'>And the little shifting pictures of people rushing</span> +<span class='i1'>In tiny self-importance to and fro.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td class='center'> +II<br style='display: block;' /> + +<span class="smcap">The Solitary</span><br style='display: block;' /> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>My heart has grown rich with the passing of years,</span> +<span class='i1'>I have less need now than when I was young</span> +<span class='i0'>To share myself with every comer,</span> +<span class='i1'>Or shape my thoughts into words with my tongue.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It is one to me that they come or go</span> +<span class='i1'>If I have myself and the drive of my will,</span> +<span class='i0'>And strength to climb on a summer night</span> +<span class='i1'>And watch the stars swarm over the hill.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let them think I love them more than I do,</span> +<span class='i1'>Let them think I care, though I go alone,</span> +<span class='i0'>If it lifts their pride, what is it to me</span> +<span class='i1'>Who am self-complete as a flower or a stone?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LOUIS_UNTERMEYER" id="LOUIS_UNTERMEYER"></a>LOUIS UNTERMEYER</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="MONOLOG_FROM_A_MATTRESS" id="MONOLOG_FROM_A_MATTRESS"></a>MONOLOG FROM A MATTRESS</h2> + +<p class='center'><i>Heinrich Heine ætat 56, loquitur:</i></p> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Can that be you, <i>la mouche?</i> Wait till I lift</span> +<span class='i0'>This palsied eye-lid and make sure... Ah, true.</span> +<span class='i0'>Come in, dear fly, and pardon my delay</span> +<span class='i0'>In thus existing; I can promise you</span> +<span class='i0'>Next time you come you'll find no dying poet—</span> +<span class='i0'>Without sufficient spleen to see me through,</span> +<span class='i0'>The joke becomes too tedious a jest.</span> +<span class='i0'>I am afraid my mind is dull to-day;</span> +<span class='i0'>I have that—something—heavier on my chest</span> +<span class='i0'>And then, you see, I've been exchanging thoughts</span> +<span class='i0'>With Doctor Franz. He talked of Kant and Hegel</span> +<span class='i0'>As though he'd nursed them both through whooping cough</span> +<span class='i0'>And, as he left, he let his finger shake</span> +<span class='i0'>Too playfully, as though to say, "Now off</span> +<span class='i0'>With that long face—you've years and years to live."</span> +<span class='i0'>I think he thinks so. But, for Heaven's sake,</span> +<span class='i0'>Don't credit it—and never tell Mathilde.</span> +<span class='i0'>Poor dear, she has enough to bear already....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>This <i>was</i> a month! During my lonely weeks</span> +<span class='i0'>One person actually climbed the stairs</span> +<span class='i0'>To seek a cripple. It was Berlioz—</span> +<span class='i0'>But Berlioz always was original.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Meissner was also here; he caught me unawares,</span> +<span class='i0'>Scribbling to my old mother. "What!" he cried,</span> +<span class='i0'>"Is the old lady of the <i>Dammthor</i> still alive?</span> +<span class='i0'>And do you write her still?" "Each month or so."</span> +<span class='i0'>"And is she not unhappy then, to find</span> +<span class='i0'>How wretched you must be?" "How can she know?</span> +<span class='i0'>You see," I laughed, "she thinks I am as well</span> +<span class='i0'>As when she saw me last. She is too blind</span> +<span class='i0'>To read the papers—some one else must tell</span> +<span class='i0'>What's in my letters, merely signed by me.</span> +<span class='i0'>Thus she is happy. For the rest—</span> +<span class='i0'>That any son should be as sick as I,</span> +<span class='i0'>No mother could believe."</span> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><i>Ja</i>, so it goes.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Come here, my lotus-flower. It is best</span> +<span class='i0'>I drop the mask to-day; the half-cracked shield</span> +<span class='i0'>Of mockery calls for younger hands to wield.</span> +<span class='i0'>Laugh—or I'll hug it closer to my breast.</span> +<span class='i0'>So ... I can be as mawkish as I choose</span> +<span class='i0'>And give my thoughts an airing, let them loose</span> +<span class='i0'>For one last rambling stroll before—Now look!</span> +<span class='i0'>Why tears? You never heard me say "the end."</span> +<span class='i0'>Before ... before I clap them in a book</span> +<span class='i0'>And so get rid of them once and for all.</span> +<span class='i0'>This is their holiday—we'll let them run—</span> +<span class='i0'>Some have escaped already. There goes one ...</span> +<span class='i0'>What, I have often mused, did Goethe mean?</span> +<span class='i0'>So many years ago at Weimar, Goethe said</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>"Heine has all the poet's gifts but love."</span> +<span class='i0'>Good God! But that is all I ever had.</span> +<span class='i0'>More than enough! So much of love to give</span> +<span class='i0'>That no one gave me any in return.</span> +<span class='i0'>And so I flashed and snapped in my own fires</span> +<span class='i0'>Until I stood, with nothing left to burn,</span> +<span class='i0'>A twisted trunk, in chilly isolation.</span> +<span class='i0'><i>Ein Fichtenbaum steht einsam</i>—you recall?</span> +<span class='i0'>I was that Northern tree and, in the South,</span> +<span class='i0'>Amalia... So I turned to scornful cries,</span> +<span class='i0'>Hot iron songs to save the rest of me;</span> +<span class='i0'>Plunging the brand in my own misery.</span> +<span class='i0'>Crouching behind my pointed wall of words,</span> +<span class='i0'>Ramparts I built of moons and loreleys,</span> +<span class='i0'>Enchanted roses, sphinxes, love-sick birds,</span> +<span class='i0'>Giants, dead lads who left their graves to dance,</span> +<span class='i0'>Fairies and phœnixes and friendly gods—</span> +<span class='i0'>A curious frieze, half Renaissance, half Greek,</span> +<span class='i0'>Behind which, in revulsion of romance,</span> +<span class='i0'>I lay and laughed—and wept—till I was weak.</span> +<span class='i0'>Words were my shelter, words my one escape,</span> +<span class='i0'>Words were my weapons against everything.</span> +<span class='i0'>Was I not once the son of Revolution?</span> +<span class='i0'>Give me the lyre, I said, and let me sing</span> +<span class='i0'>My song of battle: Words like flaming stars</span> +<span class='i0'>Shot down with power to burn the palaces;</span> +<span class='i0'>Words like bright javelins to fly with fierce</span> +<span class='i0'>Hate of the oily Philistines and glide</span> +<span class='i0'>Through all the seven heavens till they pierce</span> +<span class='i0'>The pious hypocrites who dare to creep</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Into the Holy Places. "Then," I cried,</span> +<span class='i0'>"I am a fire to rend and roar and leap;</span> +<span class='i0'>I am all joy and song, all sword and flame!"</span> +<span class='i0'>Ha—you observe me passionate. I aim</span> +<span class='i0'>To curb these wild emotions lest they soar</span> +<span class='i0'>Or drive against my will. (So I have said</span> +<span class='i0'>These many years—and still they are not tame.)</span> +<span class='i0'>Scraps of a song keep rumbling in my head ...</span> +<span class='i0'>Listen—you never heard me sing before.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>When a false world betrays your trust</span> +<span class='i2'>And stamps upon your fire,</span> +<span class='i1'>When what seemed blood is only rust,</span> +<span class='i2'>Take up the lyre!</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'>How quickly the heroic mood</span> +<span class='i2'>Responds to its own ringing;</span> +<span class='i1'>The scornful heart, the angry blood</span> +<span class='i2'>Leap upward, singing!</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Ah, that was how it used to be. But now,</span> +<span class='i0'><i>Du schöner Todesengel</i>, it is odd</span> +<span class='i0'>How more than calm I am. Franz said it shows</span> +<span class='i0'>Power of religion, and it does, perhaps—</span> +<span class='i0'>Religion or morphine or poultices—God knows.</span> +<span class='i0'>I sometimes have a sentimental lapse</span> +<span class='i0'>And long for saviours and a physical God.</span> +<span class='i0'>When health is all used up, when money goes,</span> +<span class='i0'>When courage cracks and leaves a shattered will,</span> +<span class='i0'>Then Christianity begins. For a sick Jew,</span> +<span class='i0'>It is a very good religion ... Still,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>I fear that I will die as I have lived,</span> +<span class='i0'>A long-nosed heathen playing with his scars,</span> +<span class='i0'>A pagan killed by weltschmerz ... I remember,</span> +<span class='i0'>Once when I stood with Hegel at a window,</span> +<span class='i0'>I, being full of bubbling youth and coffee,</span> +<span class='i0'>Spoke in symbolic tropes about the stars.</span> +<span class='i0'>Something I said about "those high</span> +<span class='i0'>Abodes of all the blest" provoked his temper.</span> +<span class='i0'>"Abodes? The stars?" He froze me with a sneer,</span> +<span class='i0'>"A light eruption on the firmament."</span> +<span class='i0'>"But," cried romantic I, "is there no sphere</span> +<span class='i0'>Where virtue is rewarded when we die?"</span> +<span class='i0'>And Hegel mocked, "A very pleasant whim.</span> +<span class='i0'>So you demand a bonus since you spent</span> +<span class='i0'>One lifetime and refrained from poisoning</span> +<span class='i0'>Your testy grandmother!" ... How much of him</span> +<span class='i0'>Remains in me—even when I am caught</span> +<span class='i0'>In dreams of death and immortality.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>To be eternal—what a brilliant thought!</span> +<span class='i0'>It must have been conceived and coddled first</span> +<span class='i0'>By some old shopkeeper in Nuremberg,</span> +<span class='i0'>His slippers warm, his children amply nursed,</span> +<span class='i0'>Who, with his lighted meerschaum in his hand,</span> +<span class='i0'>His nightcap on his head, one summer night</span> +<span class='i0'>Sat drowsing at his door. And mused, how grand</span> +<span class='i0'>If all of this could last beyond a doubt—</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>This placid moon, this plump <i>gemüthlichkeit</i>;</span> +<span class='i0'>Pipe, breath and summer never going out—</span> +<span class='i0'>To vegetate through all eternity ...</span> +<span class='i0'>But no such everlastingness for me!</span> +<span class='i0'>God, if he can, keep me from such a blight.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'><i>Death, it is but the long, cool night,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>And Life's a dull and sultry day.</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>It darkens; I grow sleepy;</i></span> +<span class='i1'><i>I am weary of the light.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i1'><i>Over my bed a strange tree gleams</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>And there a nightingale is loud.</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>She sings of love, love only ...</i></span> +<span class='i1'><i>I hear it, even in dreams.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>My Mouche, the other day as I lay here,</span> +<span class='i0'>Slightly propped up upon this mattress-grave</span> +<span class='i0'>In which I've been interred these few eight years,</span> +<span class='i0'>I saw a dog, a little pampered slave,</span> +<span class='i0'>Running about and barking. I would have given</span> +<span class='i0'>Heaven could I have been that dog; to thrive</span> +<span class='i0'>Like him, so senseless—and so much alive!</span> +<span class='i0'>And once I called myself a blithe Hellene,</span> +<span class='i0'>Who am too much in love with life to live.</span> +<span class='i0'>(The shrug is pure Hebraic) ... For what I've been,</span> +<span class='i0'>A lenient Lord will tax me—and forgive.</span> +<span class='i0'><i>Dieu me pardonnera—c'est son metier.</i></span> +<span class='i0'>But this is jesting. There are other scandals</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>You haven't heard ... Can it be dusk so soon?</span> +<span class='i0'>Or is this deeper darkness ...? Is that you,</span> +<span class='i0'>Mother? How did you come? Where are the candles?...</span> +<span class='i0'><i>Over my bed a strange tree gleams</i>—half filled</span> +<span class='i0'>With stars and birds whose white notes glimmer through</span> +<span class='i0'>Its seven branches now that all is stilled.</span> +<span class='i0'>What? Friday night again and all my songs</span> +<span class='i0'>Forgotten? Wait ... I still can sing—</span> +<span class='i0'><i>Sh'ma Yisroel Adonai Elohenu,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>Adonai Echod ...</i></span> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">Mouche—Mathilde!...</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="WATERS_OF_BABYLON" id="WATERS_OF_BABYLON"></a>WATERS OF BABYLON</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What presses about us here in the evening</span> +<span class='i1'>As you open a window and stare at a stone-gray sky,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the streets give back the jangle of meaningless movement</span> +<span class='i1'>That is tired of life and almost too tired to die.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Night comes on, and even the night is wounded;</span> +<span class='i1'>There, on its breast, it carries a curved, white scar.</span> +<span class='i0'>What will you find out there that is not torn and anguished?</span> +<span class='i1'>Can God be less distressed than the least of His creatures are?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Below are the blatant lights in a huddled squalor;</span> +<span class='i1'>Above are futile fires in freezing space.</span> +<span class='i0'>What can they give that you should look to them for compassion</span> +<span class='i1'>Though you bare your heart and lift an imploring face?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>They have seen, by countless waters and windows,</span> +<span class='i1'>The women of your race facing a stony sky;</span> +<span class='i0'>They have heard, for thousands of years, the voices of women</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +<span class='i1'>Asking them: "Why ...?"</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let the night be; it has neither knowledge nor pity.</span> +<span class='i1'>One thing alone can hope to answer your fear;</span> +<span class='i0'>It is that which struggles and blinds us and burns between us....</span> +<span class='i1'>Let the night be. Close the window, belovèd.... Come here.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FLAMING_CIRCLE" id="THE_FLAMING_CIRCLE"></a>THE FLAMING CIRCLE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Though for fifteen years you have chaffed me across the table,</span> +<span class='i1'>Slept in my arms and fingered my plunging heart,</span> +<span class='i0'>I scarcely know you; we have not known each other.</span> +<span class='i1'>For all the fierce and casual contacts, something keeps us apart.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Are you struggling, perhaps, in a world that I see only dimly,</span> +<span class='i1'>Except as it sweeps toward the star on which I stand alone?</span> +<span class='i0'>Are we swung like two planets, compelled in our separate orbits,</span> +<span class='i1'>Yet held in a flaming circle far greater than our own?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Last night we were single, a radiant core of completion,</span> +<span class='i1'>Surrounded by flames that embraced us but left no burns,</span> +<span class='i0'>To-day we are only ourselves; we have plans and pretensions;</span> +<span class='i1'>We move in dividing streets with our small and different concerns.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Merging and rending, we wait for the miracle. Meanwhile</span> +<span class='i1'>The fire runs deeper, consuming these selves in its growth.</span> +<span class='i0'>Can this be the mystical marriage—this clash and communion;</span> +<span class='i1'>This pain of possession that frees and encircles us both?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="PORTRAIT_OF_A_MACHINE" id="PORTRAIT_OF_A_MACHINE"></a>PORTRAIT OF A MACHINE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What nudity is beautiful as this</span> +<span class='i0'>Obedient monster purring at its toil;</span> +<span class='i0'>These naked iron muscles dripping oil</span> +<span class='i0'>And the sure-fingered rods that never miss.</span> +<span class='i0'>This long and shining flank of metal is</span> +<span class='i0'>Magic that greasy labor cannot spoil;</span> +<span class='i0'>While this vast engine that could rend the soil</span> +<span class='i0'>Conceals its fury with a gentle hiss.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It does not vent its loathing, does not turn</span> +<span class='i0'>Upon its makers with destroying hate.</span> +<span class='i0'>It bears a deeper malice; lives to earn</span> +<span class='i0'>Its master's bread and laughs to see this great</span> +<span class='i0'>Lord of the earth, who rules but cannot learn,</span> +<span class='i0'>Become the slave of what his slaves create.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="ROAST_LEVIATHAN" id="ROAST_LEVIATHAN"></a>ROAST LEVIATHAN</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>"<i>Old Jews!</i>" Well, David, aren't we?</span> +<span class='i0'>What news is that to make you see so red,</span> +<span class='i0'>To swear and almost tear your beard in half?</span> +<span class='i0'>Jeered at? Well, let them laugh.</span> +<span class='i0'>You can laugh longer when you're dead.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What? Are you still too blind to see?</span> +<span class='i0'>Have you forgot your Midrash!... They were right,</span> +<span class='i0'>The little <i>goyim</i>, with their angry stones.</span> +<span class='i0'>You should be buried in the desert out of sight</span> +<span class='i0'>And not a dog should howl miscarried moans</span> +<span class='i0'>Over your foul bones....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Have you forgotten what is promised us,</span> +<span class='i0'>Because of stinking days and rotting nights?</span> +<span class='i0'>Eternal feasting, drinking, blazing lights</span> +<span class='i0'>With endless leisure, periods of play!</span> +<span class='i0'>Supernal pleasures, myriads of gay</span> +<span class='i0'>Discussions, great debates with prophet-kings!</span> +<span class='i0'>And rings of riddling scholars all surrounding</span> +<span class='i0'>God who sits in the very middle, expounding</span> +<span class='i0'>The Torah.... <i>Now</i> your dull eyes glisten!</span> +<span class='i0'>Listen:</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It is the final Day.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>A blast of Gabriel's horn has torn away</span> +<span class='i0'>The last haze from our eyes, and we can see</span> +<span class='i0'>Past the three hundred skies and gaze upon</span> +<span class='i0'>The Ineffable Name engraved deep in the sun.</span> +<span class='i0'>Now one by one, the pious and the just</span> +<span class='i0'>Are seated by us, radiantly risen</span> +<span class='i0'>From their dull prison in the dust.</span> +<span class='i0'>And then the festival begins!</span> +<span class='i0'>A sudden music spins great webs of sound</span> +<span class='i0'>Spanning the ground, the stars and their companions;</span> +<span class='i0'>While from the cliffs and cañons of blue air,</span> +<span class='i0'>Prayers of all colors, cries of exultation</span> +<span class='i0'>Rise into choruses of singing gold.</span> +<span class='i0'>And at the height of this bright consecration,</span> +<span class='i0'>The whole Creation's rolled before us.</span> +<span class='i0'>The seven burning heavens unfold....</span> +<span class='i0'>We see the first (the only one we know)</span> +<span class='i0'>Dispersed and, shining through,</span> +<span class='i0'>The other six declining: Those that hold</span> +<span class='i0'>The stars and moons, together with all those</span> +<span class='i0'>Containing rain and fire and sullen weather;</span> +<span class='i0'>Cellars of dew-fall higher than the brim;</span> +<span class='i0'>Huge arsenals with centuries of snows;</span> +<span class='i0'>Infinite rows of storms and swarms of seraphim....</span> +</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Divided now are winds and waters. Sea and land,</span> +<span class='i0'>Tohu and Bohu, light and darkness, stand</span> +<span class='i0'>Upright on either hand.</span> +<span class='i0'>And down this terrible aisle,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>While heaven's ranges roar aghast,</span> +<span class='i0'>Pours a vast file of strange and hidden things:</span> +<span class='i0'>Forbidden monsters, crocodiles with wings</span> +<span class='i0'>And perfumed flesh that sings and glows</span> +<span class='i0'>With more fresh colors than the rainbow knows....</span> +<span class='i0'>The <i>reëm</i>, those great beasts with eighteen horns,</span> +<span class='i0'>Who mate but once in seventy years and die</span> +<span class='i0'>In their own tears which flow ten stadia high.</span> +<span class='i0'>The <i>shamir</i>, made by God on the sixth morn,</span> +<span class='i0'>No longer than a grain of barley corn</span> +<span class='i0'>But stronger than the bull of Bashan and so hard</span> +<span class='i0'>It cuts through diamonds. Meshed and starred</span> +<span class='i0'>With precious stones, there struts the shattering <i>ziz</i></span> +<span class='i0'>Whose groans are wrinkled thunder....</span> +<span class='i0'>For thrice three hundred years the full parade</span> +<span class='i0'>Files past, a cavalcade of fear and wonder.</span> +<span class='i0'>And then the vast aisle clears.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Now comes our constantly increased reward.</span> +<span class='i0'>The Lord commands that monstrous beast,</span> +<span class='i0'>Leviathan, to be our feast.</span> +<span class='i0'>What cheers ascend from horde on ravenous horde!</span> +<span class='i0'>One hears the towering creature rend the seas,</span> +<span class='i0'>Frustrated, cowering, and his pleas ignored.</span> +<span class='i0'>In vain his great, belated tears are poured—</span> +<span class='i0'>For this he was created, kept and nursed.</span> +<span class='i0'>Cries burst from all the millions that attend:</span> +<span class='i0'><i>"Ascend, Leviathan, it is the end!</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>We hunger and we thirst! Ascend!" ...</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Observe him first, my friend.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +<span class='i2'><i>God's deathless plaything rolls an eye</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Five hundred thousand cubits high.</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>The smallest scale upon his tail</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Could hide six dolphins and a whale.</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>His nostrils breathe—and on the spot</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>The churning waves turn seething hot.</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>If he be hungry, one huge fin</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Drives seven thousand fishes in;</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>And when he drinks what he may need,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>The rivers of the earth recede.</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Yet he is more than huge and strong—</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Twelve brilliant colors play along</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>His sides until, compared to him,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>The naked, burning sun seems dim.</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>New scintillating rays extend</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Through endless singing space and rise</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Into an ecstasy that cries:</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>"Ascend, Leviathan, ascend!"</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>God now commands the multi-colored bands</span> +<span class='i0'>Of angels to intrude and slay the beast</span> +<span class='i0'>That His good sons may have a feast of food.</span> +<span class='i0'>But as they come, Leviathan sneezes twice ...</span> +<span class='i0'>And, numb with sudden pangs, each arm hangs slack.</span> +<span class='i0'>Black terror seizes them; blood freezes into ice</span> +<span class='i0'>And every angel flees from the attack!</span> +<span class='i0'>God, with a look that spells eternal law,</span> +<span class='i0'>Compels them back.</span> +<span class='i0'>But, though they fight and smite him tail and jaw,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Nothing avails; upon his scales their swords</span> +<span class='i0'>Break like frayed cords or, like a blade of straw,</span> +<span class='i0'>Bend towards the hilt and wilt like faded grass.</span> +<span class='i0'>Defeat and fresh retreat.... But once again</span> +<span class='i0'>God's murmurs pass among them and they mass</span> +<span class='i0'>With firmer steps upon the crowded plain.</span> +<span class='i0'>Vast clouds of spears and stones rise from the ground;</span> +<span class='i0'>But every dart flies past and rocks rebound</span> +<span class='i0'>To the disheartened angels falling around.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>A pause.</span> +<span class='i0'>The angel host withdraws</span> +<span class='i0'>With empty boasts throughout its sullen files.</span> +<span class='i0'>Suddenly God smiles....</span> +<span class='i0'>On the walls of heaven a tumble of light is caught.</span> +<span class='i0'>Low thunder rumbles like an afterthought;</span> +<span class='i0'>And God's slow laughter calls:</span> +<span class='i0'>"Behemot!"</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'><i>Behemot, sweating blood,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Uses for his daily food</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>All the fodder, flesh and juice</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>That twelve tall mountains can produce.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'><i>Jordan, flooded to the brim,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Is a single gulp to him;</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Two great streams from Paradise</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Cool his lips and scarce suffice.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'><i>When he shifts from side to side</i></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Earthquakes gape and open wide;</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>When a nightmare makes him snore,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>All the dead volcanoes roar.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'><i>In the space between each toe,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Kingdoms rise and saviours go;</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Epochs fall and causes die</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>In the lifting of his eye.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i2'><i>Wars and justice, love and death,</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>These are but his wasted breath;</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Chews a planet for his cud—</i></span> +<span class='i2'><i>Behemot sweating blood.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Roused from his unconcern,</span> +<span class='i0'>Behemot burns with anger.</span> +<span class='i0'>Dripping sleep and languor from his heavy haunches,</span> +<span class='i0'>He turns from deep disdain and launches</span> +<span class='i0'>Himself upon the thickening air,</span> +<span class='i0'>And, with weird cries of sickening despair,</span> +<span class='i0'>Flies at Leviathan.</span> +<span class='i0'>None can surmise the struggle that ensues—</span> +<span class='i0'>The eyes lose sight of it and words refuse</span> +<span class='i0'>To tell the story in its gory might.</span> +<span class='i0'>Night passes after night,</span> +<span class='i0'>And still the fight continues, still the sparks</span> +<span class='i0'>Fly from the iron sinews,... till the marks</span> +<span class='i0'>Of fire and belching thunder fill the dark</span> +<span class='i0'>And, almost torn asunder, one falls stark,</span> +<span class='i0'>Hammering upon the other!...</span> +<span class='i0'>What clamor now is born, what crashings rise!</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Hot lightnings lash the skies and frightening cries</span> +<span class='i0'>Clash with the hymns of saints and seraphim.</span> +<span class='i0'>The bloody limbs thrash through a ruddy dusk,</span> +<span class='i0'>Till one great tusk of Behemot has gored</span> +<span class='i0'>Leviathan, restored to his full strength,</span> +<span class='i0'>Who, dealing fiercer blows in those last throes,</span> +<span class='i0'>Closes on reeling Behemot at length—</span> +<span class='i0'>Piercing him with steel-pointed claws,</span> +<span class='i0'>Straight through the jaws to his disjointed head.</span> +<span class='i0'>And both lie dead.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>Then</i> come the angels!</span> +<span class='i0'>With hoists and levers, joists and poles,</span> +<span class='i0'>With knives and cleavers, ropes and saws,</span> +<span class='i0'>Down the long slopes to the gaping maws,</span> +<span class='i0'>The angels hasten; hacking and carving,</span> +<span class='i0'>So nought will be lacking for the starving</span> +<span class='i0'>Chosen of God, who in frozen wonderment</span> +<span class='i0'>Realize now what the terrible thunder meant.</span> +<span class='i0'>How their mouths water while they are looking</span> +<span class='i0'>At miles of slaughter and sniffing the cooking!</span> +<span class='i0'>Whiffs of delectable fragrance swim by;</span> +<span class='i0'>Spice-laden vagrants that float and entice,</span> +<span class='i0'>Tickling the throat and brimming the eye.</span> +<span class='i0'>Ah! what rejoicing and crackling and roasting!</span> +<span class='i0'>Ah! How the boys sing as, cackling and boasting,</span> +<span class='i0'>The angels' old wives and their nervous assistants</span> +<span class='i0'>Run in to serve us....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;">And while we are toasting</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>The Fairest of All, they call from the distance</span> +<span class='i0'>The rare ones of Time, they share our enjoyment;</span> +<span class='i0'>Their only employment to bear jars of wine</span> +<span class='i0'>And shine like the stars in a circle of glory.</span> +<span class='i0'>Here sways Rebekah accompanied by Zilpah;</span> +<span class='i0'>Miriam plays to the singing of Bilhah;</span> +<span class='i0'>Hagar has tales for us, Judith her story;</span> +<span class='i0'>Esther exhales bright romances and musk.</span> +<span class='i0'>There, in the dusky light, Salome dances.</span> +<span class='i0'>Sara and Rachel and Leah and Ruth,</span> +<span class='i0'>Fairer than ever and all in their youth,</span> +<span class='i0'>Come at our call and go by our leave.</span> +<span class='i0'>And, from her bower of beauty, walks Eve</span> +<span class='i0'>While, with the voice of a flower, she sings</span> +<span class='i0'>Of Eden, young earth and the birth of all things....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Peace without end.</span> +<span class='i0'>Peace will descend on us, discord will cease;</span> +<span class='i0'>And we, now so wretched, will lie stretched out</span> +<span class='i0'>Free of old doubt, on our cushions of ease.</span> +<span class='i0'>And, like a gold canopy over our bed,</span> +<span class='i0'>The skin of Leviathan, tail-tip to head,</span> +<span class='i0'>Soon will be spread till it covers the skies.</span> +<span class='i0'>Light will still rise from it; millions of bright</span> +<span class='i0'>Facets of brilliance, shaming the white</span> +<span class='i0'>Glass of the moon, inflaming the night.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>So Time shall pass and rest and pass again,</span> +<span class='i0'>Burn with an endless zest and then return,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Walk at our side and tide us to new joys;</span> +<span class='i0'>God's voice to guide us, beauty as our staff.</span> +<span class='i0'>Thus shall Life be when Death has disappeared....</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>Jeered at? Well, let them laugh.</i></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JOHN_GOULD_FLETCHER" id="JOHN_GOULD_FLETCHER"></a>JOHN GOULD FLETCHER</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_REBEL" id="A_REBEL"></a>A REBEL</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Tie a bandage over his eyes,</span> +<span class='i0'>And at his feet</span> +<span class='i0'>Let rifles drearily patter</span> +<span class='i0'>Their death-prayers of defeat.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Throw a blanket over his body,</span> +<span class='i0'>It need no longer stir;</span> +<span class='i0'>Truth will but stand the stronger</span> +<span class='i0'>For all who died for her.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Now he has broken through</span> +<span class='i0'>To his own secret place;</span> +<span class='i0'>Which, if we dared to do,</span> +<span class='i0'>We would have no more power left to look on that dead face.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_ROCK" id="THE_ROCK"></a>THE ROCK</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>This rock, too, was a word;</span> +<span class='i0'>A word of flame and force when that which hurled</span> +<span class='i0'>The stars into their places in the night</span> +<span class='i0'>First stirred.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And, in the summer's heat,</span> +<span class='i0'>Lay not your hand on it, for while the iron hours beat</span> +<span class='i0'>Gray anvils in the sky, it glows again</span> +<span class='i0'>With unfulfilled desire.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Touch it not; let it stand</span> +<span class='i0'>Ragged, forlorn, still looking at the land;</span> +<span class='i0'>The dry blue chaos of mountains in the distance,</span> +<span class='i0'>The slender blades of grass it shelters are</span> +<span class='i0'>Its own dark thoughts of what is near and far.</span> +<span class='i0'>Your thoughts are yours, too; naked let them stand.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="BLUE_WATER" id="BLUE_WATER"></a>BLUE WATER</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Sea-violins are playing on the sands;</span> +<span class='i0'>Curved bows of blue and white are flying over the pebbles,</span> +<span class='i0'>See them attack the chords—dark basses, glinting trebles.</span> +<span class='i0'>Dimly and faint they croon, blue violins.</span> +<span class='i0'>"Suffer without regret," they seem to cry,</span> +<span class='i0'>"Though dark your suffering is, it may be music,</span> +<span class='i0'>Waves of blue heat that wash midsummer sky;</span> +<span class='i0'>Sea-violins that play along the sands."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="PRAYERS_FOR_WIND" id="PRAYERS_FOR_WIND"></a>PRAYERS FOR WIND</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let the winds come,</span> +<span class='i0'>And bury our feet in the sands of seven deserts;</span> +<span class='i0'>Let strong breezes rise,</span> +<span class='i0'>Washing our ears with the far-off sounds of the foam.</span> +<span class='i0'>Let there be between our faces</span> +<span class='i0'>Green turf and a branch or two of back-tossed trees;</span> +<span class='i0'>Set firmly over questioning hearts</span> +<span class='i0'>The deep unquenchable answer of the wind.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="IMPROMPTU" id="IMPROMPTU"></a>IMPROMPTU</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>My mind is a puddle in the street reflecting green Sirius;</span> +<span class='i0'>In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their branches like beckoning hands.</span> +<span class='i0'>We eat the grain, the grain is death, all goes back to the earth's dark mass,</span> +<span class='i0'>All but a song which moves across the plain like the wind's deep-muttering breath.</span> +<span class='i0'>Bowed down upon the earth, man sets his plants and watches for the seed,</span> +<span class='i0'>Though he be part of the tragic pageant of the sky, no heaven will aid his mortal need.</span> +<span class='i0'>I find flame in the dust, a word once uttered that will stir again,</span> +<span class='i0'>And a wine-cup reflecting Sirius in the water held in my hands.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHINESE_POET_AMONG_BARBARIANS" id="CHINESE_POET_AMONG_BARBARIANS"></a>CHINESE POET AMONG BARBARIANS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The rain drives, drives endlessly,</span> +<span class='i0'>Heavy threads of rain;</span> +<span class='i0'>The wind beats at the shutters,</span> +<span class='i0'>The surf drums on the shore;</span> +<span class='i0'>Drunken telegraph poles lean sideways;</span> +<span class='i0'>Dank summer cottages gloom hopelessly;</span> +<span class='i0'>Bleak factory-chimneys are etched on the filmy distance,</span> +<span class='i0'>Tepid with rain.</span> +<span class='i0'>It seems I have lived for a hundred years</span> +<span class='i0'>Among these things;</span> +<span class='i0'>And it is useless for me now to make complaint against them.</span> +<span class='i0'>For I know I shall never escape from this dull barbarian country,</span> +<span class='i0'>Where there is none now left to lift a cool jade winecup,</span> +<span class='i0'>Or share with me a single human thought.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="SNOWY_MOUNTAINS" id="SNOWY_MOUNTAINS"></a>SNOWY MOUNTAINS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Higher and still more high,</span> +<span class='i0'>Palaces made for cloud,</span> +<span class='i0'>Above the dingy city-roofs</span> +<span class='i0'>Blue-white like angels with broad wings,</span> +<span class='i0'>Pillars of the sky at rest</span> +<span class='i0'>The mountains from the great plateau</span> +<span class='i0'>Uprise.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>But the world heeds them not;</span> +<span class='i0'>They have been here now for too long a time.</span> +<span class='i0'>The world makes war on them,</span> +<span class='i0'>Tunnels their granite cliffs,</span> +<span class='i0'>Splits down their shining sides,</span> +<span class='i0'>Plasters their cliffs with soap-advertisements,</span> +<span class='i0'>Destroys the lonely fragments of their peace.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Vaster and still more vast,</span> +<span class='i0'>Peak after peak, pile after pile,</span> +<span class='i0'>Wilderness still untamed,</span> +<span class='i0'>To which the future is as was the past,</span> +<span class='i0'>Barrier spread by Gods,</span> +<span class='i0'>Sunning their shining foreheads,</span> +<span class='i0'>Barrier broken down by those who do not need</span> +<span class='i0'>The joy of time-resisting storm-worn stone,</span> +<span class='i0'>The mountains swing along</span> +<span class='i0'>The south horizon of the sky;</span> +<span class='i0'>Welcoming with wide floors of blue-green ice</span> +<span class='i0'>The mists that dance and drive before the sun.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FUTURE" id="THE_FUTURE"></a>THE FUTURE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>After ten thousand centuries have gone,</span> +<span class='i0'>Man will ascend the last long pass to know</span> +<span class='i0'>That all the summits which he saw at dawn</span> +<span class='i0'>Are buried deep in everlasting snow.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Below him endless gloomy valleys, chill,</span> +<span class='i0'>Will wreathe and whirl with fighting cloud, driven by the wind's fierce breath;</span> +<span class='i0'>But on the summit, wind and cloud are still:—</span> +<span class='i0'>Only the sunlight, and death.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And staggering up to the brink of the gulf man will look down</span> +<span class='i0'>And painfully strive with weak sight to explore</span> +<span class='i0'>The silent gulfs below which the long shadows drown;</span> +<span class='i0'>Through every one of these he passed before.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Then since he has no further heights to climb,</span> +<span class='i0'>And naught to witness he has come this endless way,</span> +<span class='i0'>On the wind-bitten ice cap he will wait for the last of time,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>And watch the crimson sunrays fading of the world's latest day:</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And blazing stars will burst upon him there,</span> +<span class='i0'>Dumb in the midnight of his hope and pain,</span> +<span class='i0'>Speeding no answer back to his last prayer,</span> +<span class='i0'>And, if akin to him, akin in vain.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="UPON_THE_HILL" id="UPON_THE_HILL"></a>UPON THE HILL</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>A hundred miles of landscape spread before me like a fan;</span> +<span class='i0'>Hills behind naked hills, bronze light of evening on them shed;</span> +<span class='i0'>How many thousand ages have these summits spied on man?</span> +<span class='i0'>How many thousand times shall I look on them ere this fire in me is dead?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_ENDURING" id="THE_ENDURING"></a>THE ENDURING</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>If the autumn ended</span> +<span class='i0'>Ere the birds flew southward,</span> +<span class='i0'>If in the cold with weary throats</span> +<span class='i0'>They vainly strove to sing,</span> +<span class='i0'>Winter would be eternal;</span> +<span class='i0'>Leaf and bush and blossom</span> +<span class='i0'>Would never once more riot</span> +<span class='i0'>In the spring.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>If remembrance ended</span> +<span class='i0'>When life and love are gathered,</span> +<span class='i0'>If the world were not living</span> +<span class='i0'>Long after one is gone,</span> +<span class='i0'>Song would not ring, nor sorrow</span> +<span class='i0'>Stand at the door in evening;</span> +<span class='i0'>Life would vanish and slacken,</span> +<span class='i0'>Men would be changed to stone.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>But there will be autumn's bounty</span> +<span class='i0'>Dropping upon our weariness,</span> +<span class='i0'>There will be hopes unspoken</span> +<span class='i0'>And joys to haunt us still;</span> +<span class='i0'>There will be dawn and sunset</span> +<span class='i0'>Though we have cast the world away,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the leaves dancing</span> +<span class='i0'>Over the hill.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="JEAN_STARR_UNTERMEYER" id="JEAN_STARR_UNTERMEYER"></a>JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="OLD_MAN" id="OLD_MAN"></a>OLD MAN</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>When an old man walks with lowered head</span> +<span class='i0'>And eyes that do not seem to see,</span> +<span class='i0'>I wonder does he ponder on</span> +<span class='i0'>The worm he was or is to be.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Or has he turned his gaze within,</span> +<span class='i0'>Lost to his own vicinity;</span> +<span class='i0'>Erecting in a doubtful dream</span> +<span class='i0'>Frail bridges to Infinity.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="TONE_PICTURE" id="TONE_PICTURE"></a>TONE PICTURE</h2> + +<p class='center'>(Malipiero: <i>Impressioni Dal Vero</i>)</p> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Across the hot square, where the barbaric sun</span> +<span class='i0'>Pours coarse laughter on the crowds,</span> +<span class='i0'>Trumpets throw their loud nooses</span> +<span class='i0'>From corner to corner.</span> +<span class='i0'>Elephants, whose indifferent backs</span> +<span class='i0'>Heave with red lambrequins,</span> +<span class='i0'>Tigers with golden muzzles,</span> +<span class='i0'>Negresses, greased and turbaned in green and yellow,</span> +<span class='i0'>Weave and interweave in the merciless glare of noon.</span> +<span class='i0'>The sun flicks here and there like a throned tyrant,</span> +<span class='i0'>Snapping his whip.</span> +<span class='i0'>From amber platters, the smells ascend</span> +<span class='i0'>Of overripe peaches mingled with dust and heated oils.</span> +<span class='i0'>Pages in purple run madly about,</span> +<span class='i0'>Rolling their eyes and grinning with huge, frightened mouths.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And from a high window—a square of black velvet—</span> +<span class='i0'>A haughty figure stands back in the shadow,</span> +<span class='i0'>Aloof and silent.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="THEY_SAY" id="THEY_SAY"></a>THEY SAY—</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>They say I have a constant heart, who know</span> +<span class='i1'>Not anything of how it turns and yields</span> +<span class='i1'>First here, first there; nor how in separate fields</span> +<span class='i0'>It runs to reap and then remains to sow;</span> +<span class='i0'>How, with quick worship, it will bend and glow</span> +<span class='i1'>Before a line of song, an antique vase,</span> +<span class='i1'>Evening at sea; or in a well-loved face</span> +<span class='i0'>Seek and find all that Beauty can bestow.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Yet they do well who name it with a name,</span> +<span class='i1'>For all its rash surrenders call it true.</span> +<span class='i0'>Though many lamps be lit, yet flame is flame;</span> +<span class='i1'>The sun can show the way, a candle too.</span> +<span class='i0'>The tribute to each fragment is the same</span> +<span class='i1'>Service to all of Beauty—and her due.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="RESCUE" id="RESCUE"></a>RESCUE</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Wind and wave and the swinging rope</span> +<span class='i0'>Were calling me last night;</span> +<span class='i0'>None to save and little hope,</span> +<span class='i0'>No inner light.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Each snarling lash of the stormy sea</span> +<span class='i0'>Curled like a hungry tongue.</span> +<span class='i0'>One desperate splash—and no use to me</span> +<span class='i0'>The noose that swung!</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Death reached out three crooked claws</span> +<span class='i0'>To still my clamoring pain.</span> +<span class='i0'>I wheeled about, and Life's gray jaws</span> +<span class='i0'>Grinned once again.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>To sea I gazed, and then I turned</span> +<span class='i0'>Stricken toward the shore,</span> +<span class='i0'>Praying half-crazed to a moon that burned</span> +<span class='i0'>Above your door.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>And at your door, you discovered me;</span> +<span class='i0'>And at your heart, I sobbed ...</span> +<span class='i0'>And if there be more of eternity</span> +<span class='i0'>Let me be robbed.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let me be clipped of that heritage</span> +<span class='i0'>And burned for ages through;</span> +<span class='i0'>Freed and stripped of my fear and rage—</span> +<span class='i0'>But not of you.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="MATER_IN_EXTREMIS" id="MATER_IN_EXTREMIS"></a>MATER IN EXTREMIS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I stand between them and the outer winds,</span> +<span class='i0'>But I am a crumbling wall.</span> +<span class='i0'>They told me they could bear the blast alone,</span> +<span class='i0'>They told me: that was all.</span> +<span class='i0'>But I must wedge myself between</span> +<span class='i0'>Them and the first snowfall.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Riddled am I by onslaughts and attacks</span> +<span class='i0'>I thought I could forestall;</span> +<span class='i0'>I reared and braced myself to shelter them</span> +<span class='i0'>Before I heard them call.</span> +<span class='i0'>I cry them, God, a better shield!</span> +<span class='i0'>I am about to fall.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="SELF-REJECTED" id="SELF-REJECTED"></a>SELF-REJECTED</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Plow not nor plant this arid mound.</span> +<span class='i0'>Here is no sap for seed,</span> +<span class='i0'>No ferment for your need—</span> +<span class='i0'>Ungrateful ground!</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>No sun can warm this spot</span> +<span class='i0'>God has forgot;</span> +<span class='i0'>No rain can penetrate</span> +<span class='i0'>Its barren slate.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Demonic winds blow last year's stubble</span> +<span class='i0'>From its hard slope.</span> +<span class='i0'>Go, leave the hopeless without hope;</span> +<span class='i0'>Spare your trouble.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="H_D" id="H_D"></a>H. D.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOLY_SATYR" id="HOLY_SATYR"></a>HOLY SATYR</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Most holy Satyr,</span> +<span class='i0'>like a goat,</span> +<span class='i0'>with horns and hooves</span> +<span class='i0'>to match thy coat</span> +<span class='i0'>of russet brown,</span> +<span class='i0'>I make leaf-circlets</span> +<span class='i0'>and a crown of honey-flowers</span> +<span class='i0'>for thy throat;</span> +<span class='i0'>where the amber petals</span> +<span class='i0'>drip to ivory,</span> +<span class='i0'>I cut and slip</span> +<span class='i0'>each stiffened petal</span> +<span class='i0'>in the rift</span> +<span class='i0'>of carven petal:</span> +<span class='i0'>honey horn</span> +<span class='i0'>has wed the bright</span> +<span class='i0'>virgin petal of the white</span> +<span class='i0'>flower cluster: lip to lip</span> +<span class='i0'>let them whisper,</span> +<span class='i0'>let them lilt, quivering:</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Most holy Satyr,</span> +<span class='i0'>like a goat,</span> +<span class='i0'>hear this our song,</span> +<span class='i0'>accept our leaves,</span> +<span class='i0'>love-offering,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>return our hymn;</span> +<span class='i0'>like echo fling</span> +<span class='i0'>a sweet song,</span> +<span class='i0'>answering note for note.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="LAIS" id="LAIS"></a>LAIS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let her who walks in Paphos</span> +<span class='i0'>take the glass,</span> +<span class='i0'>let Paphos take the mirror</span> +<span class='i0'>and the work of frosted fruit,</span> +<span class='i0'>gold apples set</span> +<span class='i0'>with silver apple-leaf,</span> +<span class='i0'>white leaf of silver</span> +<span class='i0'>wrought with vein of gilt.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let Paphos lift the mirror;</span> +<span class='i0'>let her look</span> +<span class='i0'>into the polished center of the disk.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let Paphos take the mirror:</span> +<span class='i0'>did she press</span> +<span class='i0'>flowerlet of flame-flower</span> +<span class='i0'>to the lustrous white</span> +<span class='i0'>of the white forehead?</span> +<span class='i0'>did the dark veins beat</span> +<span class='i0'>a deeper purple</span> +<span class='i0'>than the wine-deep tint</span> +<span class='i0'>of the dark flower?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Did she deck black hair,</span> +<span class='i0'>one evening, with the winter-white</span> +<span class='i0'>flower of the winter-berry?</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Did she look (reft of her lover)</span> +<span class='i0'>at a face gone white</span> +<span class='i0'>under the chaplet</span> +<span class='i0'>of white virgin-breath?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Lais, exultant, tyrannizing Greece,</span> +<span class='i0'>Lais who kept her lovers in the porch,</span> +<span class='i0'>lover on lover waiting</span> +<span class='i0'>(but to creep</span> +<span class='i0'>where the robe brushed the threshold</span> +<span class='i0'>where still sleeps Lais),</span> +<span class='i0'>so she creeps, Lais,</span> +<span class='i0'>to lay her mirror at the feet</span> +<span class='i0'>of her who reigns in Paphos.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Lais has left her mirror,</span> +<span class='i0'>for she sees no longer in its depth</span> +<span class='i0'>the Lais' self</span> +<span class='i0'>that laughed exultant,</span> +<span class='i0'>tyrannizing Greece.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Lais has left her mirror,</span> +<span class='i0'>for she weeps no longer,</span> +<span class='i0'>finding in its depth</span> +<span class='i0'>a face, but other</span> +<span class='i0'>than dark flame and white</span> +<span class='i0'>feature of perfect marble.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>Lais has left her mirror</i></span> +<span class='i0'>(so one wrote)</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +<span class='i0'><i>to her who reigns in Paphos;</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>Lais who laughed a tyrant over Greece,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>Lais who turned the lovers from the porch,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>that swarm for whom now</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>Lais has no use;</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>Lais is now no lover of the glass,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>seeing no more the face as once it was,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>wishing to see that face and finding this.</i></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="HELIODORA" id="HELIODORA"></a>HELIODORA</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>He and I sought together,</span> +<span class='i0'>over the spattered table,</span> +<span class='i0'>rhymes and flowers,</span> +<span class='i0'>gifts for a name.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>He said, among others,</span> +<span class='i0'>I will bring</span> +<span class='i0'>(and the phrase was just and good,</span> +<span class='i0'>but not as good as mine)</span> +<span class='i0'>"the narcissus that loves the rain."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>We strove for a name,</span> +<span class='i0'>while the light of the lamps burnt thin</span> +<span class='i0'>and the outer dawn came in,</span> +<span class='i0'>a ghost, the last at the feast</span> +<span class='i0'>or the first,</span> +<span class='i0'>to sit within</span> +<span class='i0'>with the two that remained</span> +<span class='i0'>to quibble in flowers and verse</span> +<span class='i0'>over a girl's name.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>He said, "the rain loving,"</span> +<span class='i0'>I said, "the narcissus, drunk,</span> +<span class='i0'>drunk with the rain."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Yet I had lost</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>for he said,</span> +<span class='i0'>"the rose, the lover's gift,</span> +<span class='i0'>is loved of love,"</span> +<span class='i0'>he said it,</span> +<span class='i0'>"loved of love;"</span> +<span class='i0'>I waited, even as he spoke,</span> +<span class='i0'>to see the room filled with a light,</span> +<span class='i0'>as when in winter</span> +<span class='i0'>the embers catch in a wind</span> +<span class='i0'>when a room is dank:</span> +<span class='i0'>so it would be filled, I thought,</span> +<span class='i0'>our room with a light</span> +<span class='i0'>when he said</span> +<span class='i0'>(and he said it first)</span> +<span class='i0'>"the rose, the lover's delight,</span> +<span class='i0'>is loved of love,"</span> +<span class='i0'>but the light was the same.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Then he caught,</span> +<span class='i0'>seeing the fire in my eyes,</span> +<span class='i0'>my fire, my fever, perhaps,</span> +<span class='i0'>for he leaned</span> +<span class='i0'>with the purple wine</span> +<span class='i0'>stained in his sleeve,</span> +<span class='i0'>and said this:</span> +<span class='i0'>"Did you ever think</span> +<span class='i0'>a girl's mouth</span> +<span class='i0'>caught in a kiss</span> +<span class='i0'>is a lily that laughs?"</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I had not.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>I saw it now</span> +<span class='i0'>as men must see it forever afterwards;</span> +<span class='i0'>no poet could write again,</span> +<span class='i0'>"the red-lily,</span> +<span class='i0'>a girl's laugh caught in a kiss;"</span> +<span class='i0'>it was his to pour in the vat</span> +<span class='i0'>from which all poets dip and quaff,</span> +<span class='i0'>for poets are brothers in this.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>So I saw the fire in his eyes,</span> +<span class='i0'>it was almost my fire</span> +<span class='i0'>(he was younger)</span> +<span class='i0'>I saw the face so white;</span> +<span class='i0'>my heart beat,</span> +<span class='i0'>it was almost my phrase,</span> +<span class='i0'>I said, "surprise the muses,</span> +<span class='i0'>take them by surprise;</span> +<span class='i0'>it is late,</span> +<span class='i0'>rather it is dawn-rise,</span> +<span class='i0'>those ladies sleep, the nine,</span> +<span class='i0'>our own king's mistresses."</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>A name to rhyme,</span> +<span class='i0'>flowers to bring to a name,</span> +<span class='i0'>what was one girl faint and shy,</span> +<span class='i0'>with eyes like the myrtle</span> +<span class='i0'>(I said: "her underlids</span> +<span class='i0'>are rather like myrtle"),</span> +<span class='i0'>to vie with the nine?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Let him take the name,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>he had the rhymes,</span> +<span class='i0'>"the rose, loved of love,"</span> +<span class='i0'>"the lily, a mouth that laughs,"</span> +<span class='i0'>he had the gift,</span> +<span class='i0'>"the scented crocus,</span> +<span class='i0'>the purple hyacinth,"</span> +<span class='i0'>what was one girl to the nine?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>He said:</span> +<span class='i0'>"I will make her a wreath;"</span> +<span class='i0'>he said:</span> +<span class='i0'>"I will write it thus:</span> +<span class='i0'><i>'I will bring you the lily that laughs,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>I will twine</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>with soft narcissus, the myrtle,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>sweet crocus, white violet,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>the purple hyacinth and, last,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>the rose, loved of love,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>that these may drip on your hair</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>the less soft flowers,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>may mingle sweet with the sweet</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>of Heliodora's locks,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>myrrh-curled.'</i>"</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>(He wrote myrrh-curled,</span> +<span class='i0'>I think, the first.)</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I said:</span> +<span class='i0'>"they sleep, the nine,"</span> +<span class='i0'>when he shouted swift and passionate:</span> +<span class='i0'>"<i>that</i> for the nine!</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Above the mountains</span> +<span class='i0'>the sun is about to wake,</span> +<span class='i0'><i>and to-day white violets</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>shine beside white lilies</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>adrift on the mountain side;</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>to-day the narcissus opens</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>that loves the rain.</i>"</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I watched him to the door,</span> +<span class='i0'>catching his robe</span> +<span class='i0'>as the wine-bowl crashed to the floor,</span> +<span class='i0'>spilling a few wet lees</span> +<span class='i0'>(ah, his purple hyacinth!);</span> +<span class='i0'>I saw him out of the door,</span> +<span class='i0'>I thought:</span> +<span class='i0'>there will never be a poet,</span> +<span class='i0'>in all the centuries after this,</span> +<span class='i0'>who will dare write,</span> +<span class='i0'>after my friend's verse,</span> +<span class='i0'>"a girl's mouth</span> +<span class='i0'>is a lily kissed."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="TOWARD_THE_PIRAEUS" id="TOWARD_THE_PIRAEUS"></a>TOWARD THE PIRÆUS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>Slay with your eyes, Greek,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>men over the face of the earth,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>slay with your eyes, the host,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>puny, passionless, weak.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>Break, as the ranks of steel</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>broke of the Persian host:</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>craven, we hated them then:</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>now we would count them Gods</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>beside these, spawn of the earth.</i></span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'><i>Grant us your mantle, Greek;</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>grant us but one</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>to fright (as your eyes) with a sword,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>men, craven and weak,</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>grant us but one to strike</i></span> +<span class='i0'><i>one blow for you, passionate Greek.</i></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>I</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>You would have broken my wings,</span> +<span class='i0'>but the very fact that you knew</span> +<span class='i0'>I had wings, set some seal</span> +<span class='i0'>on my bitter heart, my heart</span> +<span class='i0'>broke and fluttered and sang.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>You would have snared me,</span> +<span class='i0'>and scattered the strands of my nest;</span> +<span class='i0'>but the very fact that you saw,</span> +<span class='i0'>sheltered me, claimed me,</span> +<span class='i0'>set me apart from the rest.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Of men—of <i>men</i> made you a god,</span> +<span class='i0'>and me, claimed me, set me apart</span> +<span class='i0'>and the song in my breast, yours, yours forever—</span> +<span class='i0'>if I escape your evil heart.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>II</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I loved you:</span> +<span class='i0'>men have writ and women have said</span> +<span class='i0'>they loved,</span> +<span class='i0'>but as the Pythoness stands by the altar,</span> +<span class='i0'>intense and may not move;</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>till the fumes pass over;</span> +<span class='i0'>and may not falter nor break,</span> +<span class='i0'>till the priest has caught the words</span> +<span class='i0'>that mar or make</span> +<span class='i0'>a deme or a ravaged town;</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>so I, though my knees tremble,</span> +<span class='i0'>my heart break,</span> +<span class='i0'>must note the rumbling,</span> +<span class='i0'>heed only the shuddering</span> +<span class='i0'>down in the fissure beneath the rock</span> +<span class='i0'>of the temple floor;</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>must wait and watch</span> +<span class='i0'>and may not turn nor move,</span> +<span class='i0'>nor break from my trance to speak</span> +<span class='i0'>so slight, so sweet,</span> +<span class='i0'>so simple a word as love.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>III</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What had you done</span> +<span class='i0'>had you been true,</span> +<span class='i0'>I can not think,</span> +<span class='i0'>I may not know.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What could we do</span> +<span class='i0'>were I not wise,</span> +<span class='i0'>what play invent,</span> +<span class='i0'>what joy devise?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What could we do</span> +<span class='i0'>if you were great?</span> +<span class='i0'>(Yet were you lost,</span> +<span class='i0'>who were there, then,</span> +<span class='i0'>to circumvent</span> +<span class='i0'>the tricks of men?)</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What can we do,</span> +<span class='i0'>for curious lies</span> +<span class='i0'>have filled your heart,</span> +<span class='i0'>and in my eyes</span> +<span class='i0'>sorrow has writ</span> +<span class='i0'>that I am wise.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>IV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>If I had been a boy,</span> +<span class='i0'>I would have worshiped your grace,</span> +<span class='i0'>I would have flung my worship</span> +<span class='i0'>before your feet,</span> +<span class='i0'>I would have followed apart,</span> +<span class='i0'>glad, rent with an ecstasy</span> +<span class='i0'>to watch you turn</span> +<span class='i0'>your great head, set on the throat,</span> +<span class='i0'>thick, dark with its sinews,</span> +<span class='i0'>burned and wrought</span> +<span class='i0'>like the olive stalk,</span> +<span class='i0'>and the noble chin</span> +<span class='i0'>and the throat.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I would have stood,</span> +<span class='i0'>and watched and watched</span> +<span class='i0'>and burned,</span> +<span class='i0'>and when in the night,</span> +<span class='i0'>from the many hosts, your slaves,</span> +<span class='i0'>and warriors and serving men</span> +<span class='i0'>you had turned</span> +<span class='i0'>to the purple couch and the flame</span> +<span class='i0'>of the woman, tall like cypress tree</span> +<span class='i0'>that flames sudden and swift and free</span> +<span class='i0'>as with crackle of golden resin</span> +<span class='i0'>and cones and the locks flung free</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>like the cypress limbs,</span> +<span class='i0'>bound, caught and shaken and loosed,</span> +<span class='i0'>bound, caught and riven and bound</span> +<span class='i0'>and loosened again,</span> +<span class='i0'>as in rain of a kingly storm</span> +<span class='i0'>or wind full from a desert plain.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>So, when you had risen</span> +<span class='i0'>from all the lethargy of love and its heat,</span> +<span class='i0'>you would have summoned me, me alone,</span> +<span class='i0'>and found my hands,</span> +<span class='i0'>beyond all the hands in the world,</span> +<span class='i0'>cold, cold, cold,</span> +<span class='i0'>intolerably cold and sweet.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>V</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It was not chastity that made me cold nor fear,</span> +<span class='i0'>only I knew that you, like myself, were sick</span> +<span class='i0'>of the puny race that crawls and quibbles and lisps</span> +<span class='i0'>of love and love and lovers and love's deceit.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>It was not chastity that made me wild but fear</span> +<span class='i0'>that my weapon, tempered in different heat,</span> +<span class='i0'>was over-matched by yours, and your hand</span> +<span class='i0'>skilled to yield death-blows, might break.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>With the slightest turn—no ill-will meant—</span> +<span class='i0'>my own lesser, yet still somewhat fine-wrought</span> +<span class='i0'>fiery-tempered, delicate, over-passionate steel.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONRAD_AIKEN" id="CONRAD_AIKEN"></a>CONRAD AIKEN</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="SEVEN_TWILIGHTS" id="SEVEN_TWILIGHTS"></a>SEVEN TWILIGHTS</h2> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='center'><b>I</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>The ragged pilgrim, on the road to nowhere,</span> +<span class='i0'>Waits at the granite milestone. It grows dark.</span> +<span class='i0'>Willows lean by the water. Pleas of water</span> +<span class='i0'>Cry through the trees. And on the boles and boughs</span> +<span class='i0'>Green water-lights make rings, already paling.</span> +<span class='i0'>Leaves speak everywhere. The willow leaves</span> +<span class='i0'>Silverly stir on the breath of moving water,</span> +<span class='i0'>Birch-leaves, beyond them, twinkle, and there on the hill,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the hills beyond again, and the highest hill,</span> +<span class='i0'>Serrated pines, in the dusk, grow almost black.</span> +<span class='i0'>By the eighth milestone on the road to nowhere</span> +<span class='i0'>He drops his sack, and lights once more the pipe</span> +<span class='i0'>There often lighted. In the dusk-sharpened sky</span> +<span class='i0'>A pair of night-hawks windily sweep, or fall,</span> +<span class='i0'>Booming, toward the trees. Thus had it been</span> +<span class='i0'>Last year, and the year before, and many years:</span> +<span class='i0'>Ever the same. "Thus turns the human track</span> +<span class='i0'>Backward upon itself, I stand once more</span> +<span class='i0'>By this small stream..." Now the rich sound of leaves,</span> +<span class='i0'>Turning in air to sway their heavy boughs,</span> +<span class='i0'>Burns in his heart, sings in his veins, as spring</span> +<span class='i0'>Flowers in veins of trees; bringing such peace</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>As comes to seamen when they dream of seas.</span> +<span class='i0'>"O trees! exquisite dancers in gray twilight!</span> +<span class='i0'>Witches! fairies! elves! who wait for the moon</span> +<span class='i0'>To thrust her golden horn, like a golden snail,</span> +<span class='i0'>Above that mountain—arch your green benediction</span> +<span class='i0'>Once more over my heart. Muffle the sound of bells,</span> +<span class='i0'>Mournfully human, that cries from the darkening valley;</span> +<span class='i0'>Close, with your leaves, about the sound of water:</span> +<span class='i0'>Take me among your hearts as you take the mist</span> +<span class='i0'>Among your boughs!" ... Now by the granite milestone,</span> +<span class='i0'>On the ancient human road that winds to nowhere,</span> +<span class='i0'>The pilgrim listens, as the night air brings</span> +<span class='i0'>The murmured echo, perpetual, from the gorge</span> +<span class='i0'>Of barren rock far down the valley. Now,</span> +<span class='i0'>Though twilight here, it may be starlight there;</span> +<span class='i0'>Mist makes elfin lakes in the hollow fields;</span> +<span class='i0'>The dark wood stands in the mist like a somber island</span> +<span class='i0'>With one red star above it.... "This I should see,</span> +<span class='i0'>Should I go on, follow the falling road,—</span> +<span class='i0'>This I have often seen.... But I shall stay</span> +<span class='i0'>Here, where the ancient milestone, like a watchman,</span> +<span class='i0'>Lifts up its figure eight, its one gray knowledge,</span> +<span class='i0'>Into the twilight; as a watchman lifts</span> +<span class='i0'>A lantern, which he does not know is out."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>II</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Now by the wall of the ancient town I lean</span> +<span class='i0'>Myself, like ancient wall and dust and sky,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the purple dusk, grown old, grown old in heart.</span> +<span class='i0'>Shadows of clouds flow inward from the sea.</span> +<span class='i0'>The mottled fields grow dark. The golden wall</span> +<span class='i0'>Grows gray again, turns stone again, the tower,</span> +<span class='i0'>No longer kindled, darkens against a cloud.</span> +<span class='i0'>Old is the world, old as the world am I;</span> +<span class='i0'>The cries of sheep rise upward from the fields,</span> +<span class='i0'>Forlorn and strange; and wake an ancient echo</span> +<span class='i0'>In fields my heart has known, but has not seen.</span> +<span class='i0'>"These fields"—an unknown voice beyond the wall</span> +<span class='i0'>Murmurs—"were once the province of the sea.</span> +<span class='i0'>Where now the sheep graze, mermaids were at play,</span> +<span class='i0'>Sea-horses galloped, and the great jeweled tortoise</span> +<span class='i0'>Walked slowly, looking upward at the waves,</span> +<span class='i0'>Bearing upon his back a thousand barnacles,</span> +<span class='i0'>A white acropolis ..." The ancient tower</span> +<span class='i0'>Sends out, above the houses and the trees,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the wide fields below the ancient walls,</span> +<span class='i0'>A measured phrase of bells. And in the silence</span> +<span class='i0'>I hear a woman's voice make answer then:</span> +<span class='i0'>"Well, they are green, although no ship can sail them....</span> +<span class='i0'>Sky-larks rest in the grass, and start up singing</span> +<span class='i0'>Before the girl who stoops to pick sea-poppies.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Spiny, the poppies are, and oh how yellow!</span> +<span class='i0'>And the brown clay is runneled by the rain...."</span> +<span class='i0'>A moment since, the sheep that crop the grass</span> +<span class='i0'>Had long blue shadows, and the grass-tips sparkled:</span> +<span class='i0'>Now all grows old.... O voices strangely speaking,</span> +<span class='i0'>Voices of man and woman, voices of bells,</span> +<span class='i0'>Diversely making comment on our time</span> +<span class='i0'>Which flows and bears us with it into dusk,</span> +<span class='i0'>Repeat the things you say! Repeat them slowly</span> +<span class='i0'>Upon this air, make them an incantation</span> +<span class='i0'>For ancient tower, old wall, the purple twilight,</span> +<span class='i0'>This dust, and me. But all I hear is silence,</span> +<span class='i0'>And something that may be leaves or may be sea.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>III</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>When the tree bares, the music of it changes:</span> +<span class='i0'>Hard and keen is the sound, long and mournful;</span> +<span class='i0'>Pale are the poplar boughs in the evening light</span> +<span class='i0'>Above my house, against a slate-cold cloud.</span> +<span class='i0'>When the house ages and the tenants leave it,</span> +<span class='i0'>Cricket sings in the tall grass by the threshold;</span> +<span class='i0'>Spider, by the cold mantel, hangs his web.</span> +<span class='i0'>Here, in a hundred years from that clear season</span> +<span class='i0'>When first I came here, bearing lights and music,</span> +<span class='i0'>To this old ghostly house my ghost will come,—</span> +<span class='i0'>Pause in the half-light, turn by the poplar, glide</span> +<span class='i0'>Above tall grasses through the broken door.</span> +<span class='i0'>Who will say that he saw—or the dusk deceived him—</span> +<span class='i0'>A mist with hands of mist blow down from the tree</span> +<span class='i0'>And open the door and enter and close it after?</span> +<span class='i0'>Who will say that he saw, as midnight struck</span> +<span class='i0'>Its tremulous golden twelve, a light in the window,</span> +<span class='i0'>And first heard music, as of an old piano,</span> +<span class='i0'>Music remote, as if it came from the earth,</span> +<span class='i0'>Far down; and then, in the quiet, eager voices?</span> +<span class='i0'>"... Houses grow old and die, houses have ghosts—</span> +<span class='i0'>Once in a hundred years we return, old house,</span> +<span class='i0'>And live once more." ... And then the ancient answer,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>In a voice not human, but more like creak of boards</span> +<span class='i0'>Or rattle of panes in the wind—"Not as the owner,</span> +<span class='i0'>But as a guest you come, to fires not lit</span> +<span class='i0'>By hands of yours.... Through these long-silent chambers</span> +<span class='i0'>Move slowly, turn, return, and bring once more</span> +<span class='i0'>Your lights and music. It will be good to talk."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>IV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>"This is the hour," she said, "of transmutation:</span> +<span class='i0'>It is the eucharist of the evening, changing</span> +<span class='i0'>All things to beauty. Now the ancient river,</span> +<span class='i0'>That all day under the arch was polished jade,</span> +<span class='i0'>Becomes the ghost of a river, thinly gleaming</span> +<span class='i0'>Under a silver cloud.... It is not water:</span> +<span class='i0'>It is that azure stream in which the stars</span> +<span class='i0'>Bathe at the daybreak, and become immortal...."</span> +<span class='i0'>"And the moon," said I—not thus to be outdone—</span> +<span class='i0'>"What of the moon? Over the dusty plane-trees</span> +<span class='i0'>Which crouch in the dusk above their feeble lanterns,</span> +<span class='i0'>Each coldly lighted by his tiny faith;</span> +<span class='i0'>The moon, the waxen moon, now almost full,</span> +<span class='i0'>Creeps whitely up.... Westward the waves of cloud,</span> +<span class='i0'>Vermilion, crimson, violet, stream on the air,</span> +<span class='i0'>Shatter to golden flakes in the icy green</span> +<span class='i0'>Translucency of twilight.... And the moon</span> +<span class='i0'>Drinks up their light, and as they fade or darken,</span> +<span class='i0'>Brightens.... O monstrous miracle of the twilight,</span> +<span class='i0'>That one should live because the others die!"</span> +<span class='i0'>"Strange too," she answered, "that upon this azure</span> +<span class='i0'>Pale-gleaming ghostly stream, impalpable—</span> +<span class='i0'>So faint, so fine that scarcely it bears up</span> +<span class='i0'>The petals that the lantern strews upon it,—</span> +<span class='i0'>These great black barges float like apparitions,</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Loom in the silver of it, beat upon it,</span> +<span class='i0'>Moving upon it as dragons move on air."</span> +<span class='i0'>"Thus always," then I answered,—looking never</span> +<span class='i0'>Toward her face, so beautiful and strange</span> +<span class='i0'>It grew, with feeding on the evening light,—</span> +<span class='i0'>"The gross is given, by inscrutable God,</span> +<span class='i0'>Power to beat wide wings upon the subtle.</span> +<span class='i0'>Thus we ourselves, so fleshly, fallible, mortal,</span> +<span class='i0'>Stand here, for all our foolishness, transfigured:</span> +<span class='i0'>Hung over nothing in an arch of light</span> +<span class='i0'>While one more evening like a wave of silence</span> +<span class='i0'>Gathers the stars together and goes out."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>V</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Now the great wheel of darkness and low clouds</span> +<span class='i0'>Whirs and whirls in the heavens with dipping rim;</span> +<span class='i0'>Against the ice-white wall of light in the west</span> +<span class='i0'>Skeleton trees bow down in a stream of air.</span> +<span class='i0'>Leaves, black leaves and smoke, are blown on the wind;</span> +<span class='i0'>Mount upward past my window; swoop again;</span> +<span class='i0'>In a sharp silence, loudly, loudly falls</span> +<span class='i0'>The first cold drop, striking a shriveled leaf....</span> +<span class='i0'>Doom and dusk for the earth! Upward I reach</span> +<span class='i0'>To draw chill curtains and shut out the dark,</span> +<span class='i0'>Pausing an instant, with uplifted hand,</span> +<span class='i0'>To watch, between black ruined portals of cloud,</span> +<span class='i0'>One star,—the tottering portals fall and crush it.</span> +<span class='i0'>Here are a thousand books! here is the wisdom</span> +<span class='i0'>Alembicked out of dust, or out of nothing;</span> +<span class='i0'>Choose now the weightiest word, most golden page,</span> +<span class='i0'>Most somberly musicked line; hold up these lanterns,—</span> +<span class='i0'>These paltry lanterns, wisdoms, philosophies,—</span> +<span class='i0'>Above your eyes, against this wall of darkness;</span> +<span class='i0'>And you'll see—what? One hanging strand of cobweb,</span> +<span class='i0'>A window-sill a half-inch deep in dust ...</span> +<span class='i0'>Speak out, old wise-men! Now, if ever, we need you.</span> +<span class='i0'>Cry loudly, lift shrill voices like magicians</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Against this baleful dusk, this wail of rain....</span> +<span class='i0'>But you are nothing! Your pages turn to water</span> +<span class='i0'>Under my fingers: cold, cold and gleaming,</span> +<span class='i0'>Arrowy in the darkness, rippling, dripping—</span> +<span class='i0'>All things are rain.... Myself, this lighted room,</span> +<span class='i0'>What are we but a murmurous pool of rain?...</span> +<span class='i0'>The slow arpeggios of it, liquid, sibilant,</span> +<span class='i0'>Thrill and thrill in the dark. World-deep I lie</span> +<span class='i0'>Under a sky of rain. Thus lies the sea-shell</span> +<span class='i0'>Under the rustling twilight of the sea;</span> +<span class='i0'>No gods remember it, no understanding</span> +<span class='i0'>Cleaves the long darkness with a sword of light.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VI</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Heaven, you say, will be a field in April,</span> +<span class='i0'>A friendly field, a long green wave of earth,</span> +<span class='i0'>With one domed cloud above it. There you'll lie</span> +<span class='i0'>In noon's delight, with bees to flash above you,</span> +<span class='i0'>Drown amid buttercups that blaze in the wind,</span> +<span class='i0'>Forgetting all save beauty. There you'll see</span> +<span class='i0'>With sun-filled eyes your one great dome of cloud</span> +<span class='i0'>Adding fantastic towers and spires of light,</span> +<span class='i0'>Ascending, like a ghost, to melt in the blue.</span> +<span class='i0'>Heaven enough, in truth, if you were there!</span> +<span class='i0'>Could I be with you I would choose your noon,</span> +<span class='i0'>Drown amid buttercups, laugh with the intimate grass,</span> +<span class='i0'>Dream there forever.... But, being older, sadder,</span> +<span class='i0'>Having not you, nor aught save thought of you,</span> +<span class='i0'>It is not spring I'll choose, but fading summer;</span> +<span class='i0'>Not noon I'll choose, but the charmed hour of dusk.</span> +<span class='i0'>Poppies? A few! And a moon almost as red....</span> +<span class='i0'>But most I'll choose that subtler dusk that comes</span> +<span class='i0'>Into the mind—into the heart, you say—</span> +<span class='i0'>When, as we look bewildered at lovely things,</span> +<span class='i0'>Striving to give their loveliness a name,</span> +<span class='i0'>They are forgotten; and other things, remembered,</span> +<span class='i0'>Flower in the heart with the fragrance we call grief.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>In the long silence of the sea, the seaman</span> +<span class='i0'>Strikes twice his bell of bronze. The short note wavers</span> +<span class='i0'>And loses itself in the blue realm of water.</span> +<span class='i0'>One sea-gull, paired with a shadow, wheels, wheels;</span> +<span class='i0'>Circles the lonely ship by wave and trough;</span> +<span class='i0'>Lets down his feet, strikes at the breaking water,</span> +<span class='i0'>Draws up his golden feet, beats wings, and rises</span> +<span class='i0'>Over the mast.... Light from a crimson cloud</span> +<span class='i0'>Crimsons the sluggishly creeping foams of waves;</span> +<span class='i0'>The seaman, poised in the bow, rises and falls</span> +<span class='i0'>As the deep forefoot finds a way through waves;</span> +<span class='i0'>And there below him, steadily gazing westward,</span> +<span class='i0'>Facing the wind, the sunset, the long cloud,</span> +<span class='i0'>The goddess of the ship, proud figurehead,</span> +<span class='i0'>Smiles inscrutably, plunges to crying waters,</span> +<span class='i0'>Emerges streaming, gleaming, with jewels falling</span> +<span class='i0'>Fierily from carved wings and golden breasts;</span> +<span class='i0'>Steadily glides a moment, then swoops again.</span> +<span class='i0'>Carved by the hand of man, grieved by the wind;</span> +<span class='i0'>Worn by the tumult of all the tragic seas,</span> +<span class='i0'>Yet smiling still, unchanging, smiling still</span> +<span class='i0'>Inscrutably, with calm eyes and golden brow—</span> +<span class='i0'>What is it that she sees and follows always,</span> +<span class='i0'>Beyond the molten and ruined west, beyond</span> +<span class='i0'>The light-rimmed sea, the sky itself? What secret</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Gives wisdom to her purpose? Now the cloud</span> +<span class='i0'>In final conflagration pales and crumbles</span> +<span class='i0'>Into the darkening waters. Now the stars</span> +<span class='i0'>Burn softly through the dusk. The seaman strikes</span> +<span class='i0'>His small lost bell again, watching the west</span> +<span class='i0'>As she below him watches.... O pale goddess</span> +<span class='i0'>Whom not the darkness, even, or rain or storm,</span> +<span class='i0'>Changes; whose great wings are bright with foam,</span> +<span class='i0'>Whose breasts are cold as the sea, whose eyes forever</span> +<span class='i0'>Inscrutably take that light whereon they look—</span> +<span class='i0'>Speak to us! Make us certain, as you are,</span> +<span class='i0'>That somewhere, beyond wave and wave and wave,</span> +<span class='i0'>That dreamed-of harbor lies which we would find.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="TETELESTAI" id="TETELESTAI"></a>TETÉLESTAI</h2> + + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='center'><b>I</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>How shall we praise the magnificence of the dead,</span> +<span class='i0'>The great man humbled, the haughty brought to dust?</span> +<span class='i0'>Is there a horn we should not blow as proudly</span> +<span class='i0'>For the meanest of us all, who creeps his days,</span> +<span class='i0'>Guarding his heart from blows, to die obscurely?</span> +<span class='i0'>I am no king, have laid no kingdoms waste,</span> +<span class='i0'>Taken no princes captive, led no triumphs</span> +<span class='i0'>Of weeping women through long walls of trumpets;</span> +<span class='i0'>Say rather I am no one, or an atom;</span> +<span class='i0'>Say rather, two great gods in a vault of starlight</span> +<span class='i0'>Play ponderingly at chess; and at the game's end</span> +<span class='i0'>One of the pieces, shaken, falls to the floor</span> +<span class='i0'>And runs to the darkest corner; and that piece</span> +<span class='i0'>Forgotten there, left motionless, is I....</span> +<span class='i0'>Say that I have no name, no gifts, no power,</span> +<span class='i0'>Am only one of millions, mostly silent;</span> +<span class='i0'>One who came with lips and hands and a heart,</span> +<span class='i0'>Looked on beauty, and loved it, and then left it.</span> +<span class='i0'>Say that the fates of time and space obscured me,</span> +<span class='i0'>Led me a thousand ways to pain, bemused me,</span> +<span class='i0'>Wrapped me in ugliness; and like great spiders</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Dispatched me at their leisure.... Well, what then?</span> +<span class='i0'>Should I not hear, as I lie down in dust,</span> +<span class='i0'>The horns of glory blowing above my burial?</span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>II</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Morning and evening opened and closed above me:</span> +<span class='i0'>Houses were built above me; trees let fall</span> +<span class='i0'>Yellowing leaves upon me, hands of ghosts,</span> +<span class='i0'>Rain has showered its arrows of silver upon me</span> +<span class='i0'>Seeking my heart; winds have roared and tossed me;</span> +<span class='i0'>Music in long blue waves of sound has borne me</span> +<span class='i0'>A helpless weed to shores of unthought silence;</span> +<span class='i0'>Time, above me, within me, crashed its gongs</span> +<span class='i0'>Of terrible warning, sifting the dust of death;</span> +<span class='i0'>And here I lie. Blow now your horns of glory</span> +<span class='i0'>Harshly over my flesh, you trees, you waters!</span> +<span class='i0'>You stars and suns, Canopus, Deneb, Rigel,</span> +<span class='i0'>Let me, as I lie down, here in this dust,</span> +<span class='i0'>Hear, far off, your whispered salutation!</span> +<span class='i0'>Roar now above my decaying flesh, you winds,</span> +<span class='i0'>Whirl out your earth-scents over this body, tell me</span> +<span class='i0'>Of ferns and stagnant pools, wild roses, hillsides!</span> +<span class='i0'>Anoint me, rain, let crash your silver arrows</span> +<span class='i0'>On this hard flesh! I am the one who named you,</span> +<span class='i0'>I lived in you, and now I die in you.</span> +<span class='i0'>I, your son, your daughter, treader of music,</span> +<span class='i0'>Lie broken, conquered.... Let me not fall in silence.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>III</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I, the restless one; the circler of circles;</span> +<span class='i0'>Herdsman and roper of stars, who could not capture</span> +<span class='i0'>The secret of self; I who was tyrant to weaklings,</span> +<span class='i0'>Striker of children; destroyer of women; corrupter</span> +<span class='i0'>Of innocent dreamers, and laugher at beauty; I,</span> +<span class='i0'>Too easily brought to tears and weakness by music,</span> +<span class='i0'>Baffled and broken by love, the helpless beholder</span> +<span class='i0'>Of the war in my heart of desire with desire, the struggle</span> +<span class='i0'>Of hatred with love, terror with hunger; I</span> +<span class='i0'>Who laughed without knowing the cause of my laughter, who grew</span> +<span class='i0'>Without wishing to grow, a servant to my own body;</span> +<span class='i0'>Loved without reason the laughter and flesh of a woman,</span> +<span class='i0'>Enduring such torments to find her! I who at last</span> +<span class='i0'>Grow weaker, struggle more feebly, relent in my purpose,</span> +<span class='i0'>Choose for my triumph an easier end, look backward</span> +<span class='i0'>At earlier conquests; or, caught in the web, cry out</span> +<span class='i0'>In a sudden and empty despair, "Tetélestai!"</span> +<span class='i0'>Pity me, now! I, who was arrogant, beg you!</span> +<span class='i0'>Tell me, as I lie down, that I was courageous.</span> +<span class='i0'>Blow horns of victory now, as I reel and am vanquished.</span> +<span class='i0'>Shatter the sky with trumpets above my grave.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>IV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>... Look! this flesh how it crumbles to dust and is blown!</span> +<span class='i0'>These bones, how they grind in the granite of frost and are nothing!</span> +<span class='i0'>This skull, how it yawns for a flicker of time in the darkness</span> +<span class='i0'>Yet laughs not and sees not! It is crushed by a hammer of sunlight,</span> +<span class='i0'>And the hands are destroyed.... Press down through the leaves of the jasmine,</span> +<span class='i0'>Dig through the interlaced roots—nevermore will you find me;</span> +<span class='i0'>I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me....</span> +<span class='i0'>Take the soft dust in your hand—does it stir: does it sing?</span> +<span class='i0'>Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun?</span> +<span class='i0'>Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble</span> +<span class='i0'>In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?...</span> +<span class='i0'>Listen!... It says: "I lean by the river. The willows</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +<span class='i0'>Are yellowed with bud. White clouds roar up from the south</span> +<span class='i0'>And darken the ripples; but they cannot darken my heart,</span> +<span class='i0'>Nor the face like a star in my heart!... Rain falls on the water</span> +<span class='i0'>And pelts it, and rings it with silver. The willow trees glisten,</span> +<span class='i0'>The sparrows chirp under the eaves; but the face in my heart</span> +<span class='i0'>Is a secret of music.... I wait in the rain and am silent."</span> +<span class='i0'>Listen again!... It says: "I have worked, I am tired,</span> +<span class='i0'>The pencil dulls in my hand: I see through the window</span> +<span class='i0'>Walls upon walls of windows with faces behind them,</span> +<span class='i0'>Smoke floating up to the sky, an ascension of seagulls.</span> +<span class='i0'>I am tired. I have struggled in vain, my decision was fruitless,</span> +<span class='i0'>Why then do I wait? with darkness, so easy, at hand!...</span> +<span class='i0'>But to-morrow, perhaps.... I will wait and endure till to-morrow!..."</span> +<span class='i0'>Or again: "It is dark. The decision is made. I am vanquished</span> +<span class='i0'>By terror of life. The walls mount slowly about me</span> +<span class='i0'>In coldness. I had not the courage. I was forsaken.</span> +<span class='i0'>I cried out, was answered by silence.... Tetélestai!..."</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>V</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Hear how it babbles!—Blow the dust out of your hand,</span> +<span class='i0'>With its voices and visions, tread on it, forget it, turn homeward</span> +<span class='i0'>With dreams in your brain.... This, then, is the humble, the nameless,—</span> +<span class='i0'>The lover, the husband and father, the struggler with shadows,</span> +<span class='i0'>The one who went down under shoutings of chaos! The weakling</span> +<span class='i0'>Who cried his "forsaken!" like Christ on the darkening hilltop!...</span> +<span class='i0'>This, then, is the one who implores, as he dwindles to silence,</span> +<span class='i0'>A fanfare of glory.... And which of us dares to deny him!</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="EDNA_ST_VINCENT_MILLAY" id="EDNA_ST_VINCENT_MILLAY"></a>EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="EIGHT_SONNETS" id="EIGHT_SONNETS"></a>EIGHT SONNETS</h2> + +<table summary='poem'> +<tr><td class='center'><b>I</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>When you, that at this moment are to me</span> +<span class='i0'>Dearer than words on paper, shall depart,</span> +<span class='i0'>And be no more the warder of my heart,</span> +<span class='i0'>Whereof again myself shall hold the key;</span> +<span class='i0'>And be no more, what now you seem to be,</span> +<span class='i0'>The sun, from which all excellencies start</span> +<span class='i0'>In a round nimbus, nor a broken dart</span> +<span class='i0'>Of moonlight, even, splintered on the sea;</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I shall remember only of this hour—</span> +<span class='i0'>And weep somewhat, as now you see me weep—</span> +<span class='i0'>The pathos of your love, that, like a flower,</span> +<span class='i0'>Fearful of death yet amorous of sleep,</span> +<span class='i0'>Droops for a moment and beholds, dismayed,</span> +<span class='i0'>The wind whereon its petals shall be laid.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>II</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What's this of death, from you who never will die?</span> +<span class='i0'>Think you the wrist that fashioned you in clay,</span> +<span class='i0'>The thumb that set the hollow just that way</span> +<span class='i0'>In your full throat and lidded the long eye</span> +<span class='i0'>So roundly from the forehead, will let lie</span> +<span class='i0'>Broken, forgotten, under foot some day</span> +<span class='i0'>Your unimpeachable body, and so slay</span> +<span class='i0'>The work he most had been remembered by?</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I tell you this: whatever of dust to dust</span> +<span class='i0'>Goes down, whatever of ashes may return</span> +<span class='i0'>To its essential self in its own season,</span> +<span class='i0'>Loveliness such as yours will not be lost,</span> +<span class='i0'>But, cast in bronze upon his very urn,</span> +<span class='i0'>Make known him Master, and for what good reason.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>III</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I know I am but summer to your heart,</span> +<span class='i0'>And not the full four seasons of the year;</span> +<span class='i0'>And you must welcome from another part</span> +<span class='i0'>Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.</span> +<span class='i0'>No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell</span> +<span class='i0'>Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;</span> +<span class='i0'>And I have loved you all too long and well</span> +<span class='i0'>To carry still the high sweet breast of spring.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes,</span> +<span class='i0'>I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums,</span> +<span class='i0'>That you may hail anew the bird and rose</span> +<span class='i0'>When I come back to you, as summer comes.</span> +<span class='i0'>Else will you seek, at some not distant time,</span> +<span class='i0'>Even your summer in another clime.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>IV</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,</span> +<span class='i0'>Being wrought not of a dearness and a death</span> +<span class='i0'>But of a love turned ashes and the breath</span> +<span class='i0'>Gone out of beauty; never again will grow</span> +<span class='i0'>The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow</span> +<span class='i0'>Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath</span> +<span class='i0'>Its friendly weathers down, far underneath</span> +<span class='i0'>Shall be such bitterness of an old woe.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>That April should be shattered by a gust,</span> +<span class='i0'>That August should be leveled by a rain,</span> +<span class='i0'>I can endure, and that the lifted dust</span> +<span class='i0'>Of man should settle to the earth again;</span> +<span class='i0'>But that a dream can die, will be a thrust</span> +<span class='i0'>Between my ribs forever of hot pain.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>V</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,</span> +<span class='i0'>I have forgotten, and what arms have lain</span> +<span class='i0'>Under my head till morning; but the rain</span> +<span class='i0'>Is full of ghosts to-night, that tap and sigh</span> +<span class='i0'>Upon the glass and listen for reply;</span> +<span class='i0'>And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain,</span> +<span class='i0'>For unremembered lads that not again</span> +<span class='i0'>Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,</span> +<span class='i0'>Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,</span> +<span class='i0'>Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:</span> +<span class='i0'>I cannot say what loves have come and gone;</span> +<span class='i0'>I only know that summer sang in me</span> +<span class='i0'>A little while, that in me sings no more.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VI</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare.</span> +<span class='i0'>Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace,</span> +<span class='i0'>And lay them prone upon the earth and cease</span> +<span class='i0'>To ponder on themselves, the while they stare</span> +<span class='i0'>At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere</span> +<span class='i0'>In shapes of shifting lineage; let geese</span> +<span class='i0'>Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release</span> +<span class='i0'>From dusty bondage into luminous air.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>O blinding hour, O holy, terrible day,</span> +<span class='i0'>When first the shaft into his vision shone</span> +<span class='i0'>Of light anatomized! Euclid alone</span> +<span class='i0'>Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they</span> +<span class='i0'>Who, though once only and then but far away,</span> +<span class='i0'>Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!</span> +<span class='i0'>Give back my book and take my kiss instead.</span> +<span class='i0'>Was it my enemy or my friend I heard?—</span> +<span class='i0'>"What a big book for such a little head!"</span> +<span class='i0'>Come, I will show you now my newest hat,</span> +<span class='i0'>And you may watch me purse my mouth and prink.</span> +<span class='i0'>Oh, I shall love you still and all of that.</span> +<span class='i0'>I never again shall tell you what I think.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>I shall be sweet and crafty, soft and sly;</span> +<span class='i0'>You will not catch me reading any more;</span> +<span class='i0'>I shall be called a wife to pattern by;</span> +<span class='i0'>And some day when you knock and push the door,</span> +<span class='i0'>Some sane day, not too bright and not too stormy,</span> +<span class='i0'>I shall be gone, and you may whistle for me.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> +</td></tr> +<tr><td class='center'><b>VIII</b></td></tr> +<tr><td class='poem'> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>Say what you will, and scratch my heart to find</span> +<span class='i0'>The roots of last year's roses in my breast;</span> +<span class='i0'>I am as surely riper in my mind</span> +<span class='i0'>As if the fruit stood in the stalls confessed.</span> +<span class='i0'>Laugh at the unshed leaf, say what you will,</span> +<span class='i0'>Call me in all things what I was before,</span> +<span class='i0'>A flutterer in the wind, a woman still;</span> +<span class='i0'>I tell you I am what I was and more.</span> +</p> +<p class='stanza'> +<span class='i0'>My branches weigh me down, frost cleans the air,</span> +<span class='i0'>My sky is black with small birds bearing south;</span> +<span class='i0'>Say what you will, confuse me with fine care,</span> +<span class='i0'>Put by my word as but an April truth,—</span> +<span class='i0'>Autumn is no less on me that a rose</span> +<span class='i0'>Hugs the brown bough and sighs before it goes.</span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> +</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<h2>BIBLIOGRAPHY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="BIBLIOGRAPHY" id="BIBLIOGRAPHY"></a>BIBLIOGRAPHY</h2> + +<p class='center'>(The following lists include poetical works only)</p> + + +<table summary='bibliography'> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>AMY LOWELL</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A Dome of Many-Colored Glass</td><td> Houghton Mifflin Co.</td><td> 1912</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Sword Blades and Poppy Seed</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1914</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Men, Women and Ghosts</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Can Grande's Castle</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1918</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Pictures of the Floating World</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1919</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Legends</td><td> Houghton Mifflin Co.</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Fir-Flower Tablets</td><td> Houghton Mifflin Co.</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>ROBERT FROST</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A Boy's Will</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1914</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>North of Boston</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1915</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Mountain Interval</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>CARL SANDBURG</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Chicago Poems</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Cornhuskers</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1918</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Smoke and Steel</td><td> Harcourt, Brace and Co.</td><td> 1930</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Slabs of the Sunburnt West</td><td> Harcourt, Brace and Co.</td><td> 1922</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>VACHEL LINDSAY</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Rhymes to be Traded for Bread</td><td> Privately Printed; Springfield, Ill.</td><td> 1912</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>General William Booth Enters Into Heaven</td><td> Mitchell Kennerley</td><td> 1913</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Congo and Other Poems</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1915</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Chinese Nightingale</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1917</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Golden Whales of California</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1920 +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>JAMES OPPENHEIM</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Monday Morning and Other Poems</td><td> Sturgis & Walton Co.</td><td> 1909</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Songs for the New Age</td><td> The Century Company</td><td> 1914</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>War and Laughter</td><td> The Century Company</td><td> 1915</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Book of Self</td><td> Alfred A. Knopf</td><td> 1917</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Solitary</td><td> B. W. Huebsch</td><td> 1919</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Mystic Warrior</td><td> Alfred A. Knopf</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>ALFRED KREYMBORG</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Mushrooms</td><td> Alfred A. Knopf</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Plays for Poem-Mimes</td><td> The Others Press</td><td> 1918</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Plays for Merry Andrews</td><td> The Sunwise Turn</td><td> 1920</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Blood of Things</td><td> Nicholas L. Brown</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>SARA TEASDALE</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Sonnets to Duse</td><td> The Poet Lore Co.</td><td> 1907</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Helen of Troy</td><td> G. P. Putnam's Sons</td><td> 1911</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Rivers to the Sea</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1915</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Love Songs</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1917</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Flame and Shadow</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1920</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>LOUIS UNTERMEYER</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Younger Quire</td><td> Moods Publishing Co.</td><td> 1911</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>First Love</td><td> Sherman French & Co.</td><td> 1911</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Challenge</td><td> The Century Company</td><td> 1914</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>"—and Other Poets"</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Poems of Heinrich Heine</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1917</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>These Times</td><td> Henry Holt and Company</td><td> 1917</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Including Horace</td><td> Harcourt, Brace and Co.</td><td> 1919</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The New Adam</td><td> Harcourt, Brace and Co.</td><td> 1920</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Heavens</td><td> Harcourt, Brace and Co.</td><td> 1922</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>JOHN GOULD FLETCHER</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Fire and Wine</td><td> Grant Richards (London)</td><td> 1913</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Dominant City</td><td> Max Goschen (London)</td><td> 1913</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Fool's Gold</td><td> Max Goschen (London)</td><td> 1913</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Book of Nature</td><td> Constable & Co. (London)</td><td> 1913</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Visions of the Evening</td><td> Erskine Macdonald (London)</td><td> 1913</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Irradiations</td><td> Houghton Mifflin Co.</td><td> 1915</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Goblins and Pagodas</td><td> Houghton Mifflin Co.</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Japanese Prints</td><td> The Four Seas Company</td><td> 1918</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Tree of Life</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1919</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Breakers and Granite</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1921 +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Growing Pains</td><td> B. W. Huebsch</td><td> 1918</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Dreams Out of Darkness</td><td> B. W. Huebsch</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>H. D.</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Sea Garden</td><td> Houghton Mifflin Co.</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Hymen</td><td> Henry Holt and Co.</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>CONRAD AIKEN</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Earth Triumphant</td><td> The Macmillan Company</td><td> 1914</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Turns and Movies</td><td> Houghton Mifflin Co.</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Jig of Forslin</td><td> The Four Seas Company</td><td> 1916</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Nocturne of Remembered Spring</td><td> The Four Seas Company</td><td> 1917</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Charnel Rose</td><td> The Four Seas Company</td><td> 1918</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The House of Dust</td><td> The Four Seas Company</td><td> 1920</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Punch: the Immortal Liar</td><td> Alfred A. Knopf</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td><p style='margin-bottom: 0em;'>EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY</p></td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Renascence</td><td> Mitchell Kennerley</td><td> 1917</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>A Few Figs from Thistles</td><td> Frank Shay</td><td> 1920</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>The Lamp and the Bell</td><td> Frank Shay</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Aria Da Capo</td><td> Mitchell Kennerley</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +<tr><td class='indent'>Second April</td><td> Mitchell Kennerley</td><td> 1921</td></tr> +</table> + +<div class="trans-note"> +<p>Transcriber's note:</p> + +<p>Pages which were blank in the original are not shown in this etext.</p> + + + </div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of American Poetry, 1922, by +Edna St. Vincent Millay and Robert Frost + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AMERICAN POETRY, 1922 *** + +***** This file should be named 25880-h.htm or 25880-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/8/8/25880/ + +Produced by David Starner, Huub Bakker, Stephen Hope and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned +images of public domain material from the Google Print +project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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