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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eight Harvard Poets, by
+E. Estlin Cummings and S. Foster Damon and J. R. Dos Passos and Robert Hillyer and R. S. Mitchell
+
+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: Eight Harvard Poets
+
+Author: E. Estlin Cummings
+ S. Foster Damon
+ J. R. Dos Passos
+ Robert Hillyer
+ R. S. Mitchell
+
+Release Date: June 24, 2011 [EBook #36508]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIGHT HARVARD POETS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Meredith Bach, David Garcia 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.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+EIGHT HARVARD POETS
+
+ E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS
+ S. FOSTER DAMON
+ J. R. DOS PASSOS
+ ROBERT HILLYER
+ R. S. MITCHELL
+ WILLIAM A. NORRIS
+ DUDLEY POORE
+ CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ NEW YORK
+ LAURENCE J. GOMME
+ 1917
+
+
+
+
+ Copyright, 1917, by
+ LAURENCE J. GOMME
+
+ VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY
+ BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ PAGE
+ E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS
+
+ Thou in Whose Sword-Great Story Shine the Deeds 3
+ A Chorus Girl 4
+ This is the Garden 5
+ It May not Always be so 6
+ Crepuscule 7
+ Finis 8
+ The Lover Speaks 9
+ Epitaph 10
+
+
+ S. FOSTER DAMON
+
+ Incessu Patuit Deus 13
+ You Thought I had Forgotten 15
+ Venice 16
+ The New Macaber 18
+ To War 20
+ Calm Day, with Rollers 21
+ Phonograph--Tango 22
+ Decoration 24
+ Threnody 25
+
+
+ J. R. DOS PASSOS
+
+ The Bridge 29
+ Salvation Army 30
+ Incarnation 32
+ Memory 34
+ Saturnalia 37
+ "Whan that Aprille" 39
+ Night Piece 40
+
+
+ ROBERT HILLYER
+
+ Four Sonnets from a Sonnet-Sequence 45
+ A Sea Gull 49
+ Domesday 50
+ To a Passepied by Scarlatti 52
+ Elegy for Antinous 53
+ Song 54
+ "My Peace I Leave with You" 55
+ The Recompense 56
+
+
+ R. S. MITCHELL
+
+ Poppy Song 59
+ Love Dream 62
+ The Island of Death 64
+ From the Arabian Nights 66
+ Threnody 68
+ Helen 70
+ Largo 72
+ Lazarus 73
+ A Crucifix 74
+ Neith 75
+ A Farewell 77
+
+
+ WILLIAM A. NORRIS
+
+ Of Too Much Song 81
+ Wherever My Dreams Go 82
+ Out of the Littleness 83
+ Nahant 84
+ Qui Sub Luna Errant 85
+ Across the Taut Strings 86
+ Escape 87
+ On a Street Corner 88
+ Sea-burial 89
+
+
+ DUDLEY POORE
+
+ A Renaissance Picture 93
+ The Philosopher's Garden 95
+ The Tree of Stars 96
+ After Rain 97
+ Cor Cordium 99
+ The Withered Leaf, the Faded Flower be Mine 105
+
+
+ CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+
+ The End of It 109
+ The New Platonist 110
+ The Room Over the River 112
+ The Fiddler 114
+ Falstaff's Page 116
+ A Dull Sunday 117
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS
+
+
+
+
+[THOU IN WHOSE SWORD-GREAT STORY SHINE THE DEEDS]
+
+
+ Thou in whose sword-great story shine the deeds
+ Of history her heroes, sounds the tread
+ Of those vast armies of the marching dead,
+ With standards and the neighing of great steeds
+ Moving to war across the smiling meads;
+ Thou by whose page we break the precious bread
+ Of dear communion with the past, and wed
+ To valor, battle with heroic breeds;
+
+ Thou, Froissart, for that thou didst love the pen
+ While others wrote in steel, accept all praise
+ Of after ages, and of hungering days
+ For whom the old glories move, the old trumpets cry;
+ Who gav'st as one of those immortal men
+ His life that his fair city might not die.
+
+
+
+
+A CHORUS GIRL
+
+
+ When thou hast taken thy last applause, and when
+ The final curtain strikes the world away,
+ Leaving to shadowy silence and dismay
+ That stage which shall not know thy smile again,
+ Lingering a little while I see thee then
+ Ponder the tinsel part they let thee play;
+ I see the red mouth tarnished, the face grey,
+ And smileless silent eyes of Magdalen.
+
+ The lights have laughed their last; without, the street
+ Darkling, awaiteth her whose feet have trod
+ The silly souls of men to golden dust.
+ She pauses, on the lintel of defeat,
+ Her heart breaks in a smile--and she is Lust ...
+ Mine also, little painted poem of God.
+
+ This is the garden: colors come and go,
+ Frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing,
+ Strong silent greens serenely lingering,
+ Absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
+ This is the garden: pursed lips do blow
+ Upon cool flutes within wide glooms, and sing,
+ Of harps celestial to the quivering string,
+ Invisible faces hauntingly and slow.
+
+ This is the garden. Time shall surely reap,
+ And on Death's blade lie many a flower curled,
+ In other lands where other songs be sung;
+ Yet stand They here enraptured, as among
+ The slow deep trees perpetual of sleep
+ Some silver-fingered fountain steals the world.
+
+ It may not always be so; and I say
+ That if your lips, which I have loved, should touch
+ Another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
+ His heart, as mine in time not far away;
+ If on another's face your sweet hair lay
+ In such a silence as I know, or such
+ Great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
+ Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
+
+ If this should be, I say if this should be--
+ You of my heart, send me a little word;
+ That I may go unto him, and take his hands,
+ Saying, Accept all happiness from me.
+ Then shall I turn my face, and hear one bird
+ Sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
+
+
+
+
+CREPUSCULE
+
+
+ I will wade out
+ till my thighs are steeped in burn-
+ ing flowers
+ I will take the sun in my mouth
+ and leap into the ripe air
+ Alive
+ with closed eyes
+ to dash against darkness
+ in the sleeping curves of my
+ body
+ Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
+ with chasteness of sea-girls
+ Will I complete the mystery
+ of my flesh
+ I will rise
+ After a thousand years
+ lipping
+ flowers
+ And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
+
+
+
+
+FINIS
+
+
+ Over silent waters
+ day descending
+ night ascending
+ floods the gentle glory of the sunset
+ In a golden greeting
+ splendidly to westward
+ as pale twilight
+ trem-
+ bles
+ into
+ Darkness
+ comes the last light's gracious exhortation
+ Lifting up to peace
+ so when life shall falter
+ standing on the shores of the
+ eternal
+ god
+ May I behold my sunset
+ Flooding
+ over silent waters
+
+
+
+
+THE LOVER SPEAKS
+
+
+ Your little voice
+ Over the wires came leaping
+ and I felt suddenly
+ dizzy
+ With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
+ wee skipping high-heeled flames
+ courtesied before my eyes
+ or twinkling over to my side
+ Looked up
+ with impertinently exquisite faces
+ floating hands were laid upon me
+ I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing
+ up
+ Up
+ with the pale important
+ stars and the Humorous
+ moon
+ dear girl
+ How I was crazy how I cried when I heard
+ over time
+ and tide and death
+ leaping
+ Sweetly
+ your voice
+
+
+
+
+EPITAPH
+
+
+ Tumbling-hair
+ picker of buttercups
+ violets
+ dandelions
+ And the big bullying daisies
+ through the field wonderful
+ with eyes a little sorry
+ Another comes
+ also picking flowers
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+S. FOSTER DAMON
+
+
+
+
+INCESSU PATUIT DEUS
+
+
+ The little clattering stones along the street
+ Dance with each other round my swimming feet;
+ The street itself, as in some crazy dream,
+ Streaks past, a half-perceived material stream.
+
+ Brighter than early dawn's most brilliant dye
+ Are blown clear bands of color through the sky,
+ That swirl and sweep and meet, to break and foam
+ Like rainbow veils upon a bubble's dome.
+
+ Yours are the songs that burst about my ears,
+ Or blow away as many-colored spheres.
+
+ You are the star that made the skies all bright,
+ Yet tore itself away in flaming flight;
+ You are the tree that suddenly awoke;
+ You are the rose that came to life and spoke....
+
+ Guided by you, how we might stroll towards death,
+ Our only music one another's breath,
+ Through gardens intimate with hollyhocks,
+ Where silent poppies burn between the rocks,
+ By pools where birches bend to confidants
+ Above green waters scummed with lily-plants.
+
+ There we might wander, you and I alone,
+ Through gardens filled with marble seats moss-grown,
+ And fountains--water-threads that winds disperse--
+ While in the spray the birds sit and converse.
+
+ And when the fireflies mix their circling glow
+ Through the dark plants, then gently might I know
+ Your lips, light as the wings of the dragon-flies....
+
+ --Merely dreams, fluttering in my eyes....
+
+
+
+
+[YOU THOUGHT I HAD FORGOTTEN]
+
+
+ You thought I had forgotten. Well, I had!
+ (Although I never guessed I could forget
+ Those few great moments when we both went mad.)
+
+ The other day at someone's tea we met,
+ Smiling gayly, bowed, and went our several ways,
+ Complacent with successful coldness.--Yet
+
+ Suddenly I was back in the old days
+ Before you felt we ought to drift apart.
+ It was some trick--the way your eyebrows raise,
+
+ Your hands--some vivid trifle. With a start
+ Then I remembered how I lived alone,
+ Writing bad poems and eating out my heart
+
+ All for your beauty.--How the time has flown!
+
+
+
+
+VENICE
+
+
+ In a sunset glowing of crimson and gold,
+ She lies, the glory of the world,
+ A beached king's galley, whose sails are furled,
+ Who is hung with tapestries rich and old.
+
+ Beautiful as a woman is she,
+ A woman whose autumn of life is here,
+ Proud and calm at the end of the year
+ With the grace that now is majesty.
+
+ The sleeping waters bathe her sides,
+ The warm, blue streams of the Adrian Sea;
+ She dreams and drowses languorously,
+ Swayed in the swaying of the tides.
+
+ She is a goddess left for us,
+ Veiled with the softening veils of time;
+ Her blue-veined breasts are now sublime,
+ Her moulded torso glorious.
+
+ The pity that we must come and go--!
+ While the old gold and the marble stays,
+ Forever gleaming its soft strong blaze,
+ Calm in the early evening glow.
+
+ And still the sensitive silhouettes
+ Of the gondolas pass and leave no track,
+ Light on the tides as lilies, and black
+ In the rippling waters of long sunsets.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW MACABER
+
+
+ The pleasant graveyard of my soul
+ With sentimental cypress trees
+ And flowers is filled, that I may stroll
+ In meditation, at my ease.
+
+ The little marble stones are lost
+ In flowers surging from the dead;
+ Nor is there any mournful ghost
+ To wail until the night is sped.
+
+ And while night rustles through the trees,
+ Dragging the stars along, I know
+ The moon is rising on the breeze,
+ Quivering as in a river's flow.
+
+ And ah! that moon of silver sheen!
+ It is my heart hung in the sky;
+ And no clouds ever float between
+ The grave-flowers and my heart on high.
+
+ I do not read upon each stone
+ The name that once was carven there;
+ I merely note new blossoms blown
+ And breathe the perfume of the air.
+
+ Thus walk I through my wonderland
+ While all the evening is atune,
+ Beneath the cypress trees that stand
+ Like candles to the barren moon.
+
+
+
+
+TO WAR
+
+
+ The music beats, up the chasmed street,
+ Then flares from around the curve;
+ The cheers break out from the waving crowd:
+ --Our soldiers march, superb!
+ Over the track-lined city street
+ The young men, the grinning men, pass.
+
+ Last night they danced to that very tune;
+ Today they march away;
+ Tomorrow, perhaps no band at all,
+ Or the band beside the grave.
+ Above, in the long blue strip of sky,
+ The whirling pigeons, the thoughtless pigeons, pass.
+
+ Another band beats down the street;
+ Contending rhythms clash;
+ New melodies win place, then fade,
+ And the flashing legs move past.
+ Down the cheering, grey-paved street
+ The fringed flags, the erect flags, pass.
+
+
+
+
+CALM DAY, WITH ROLLERS
+
+
+ Always the ships that move in mystery, on the dim horizon,
+ Shadow-filled sails of dreams, sliding over the blue-grey ocean,
+ Far from the rock-edged shore where willow-green waves are rushing,
+ And white foam-people leap, to stand erect for the moment.
+
+ Ho! ye sails that seem to wander in dream-filled meadows,
+ Say, is the shore where I stand the only field of struggle,
+ Or are ye hit and battered out there by waves and wind-gusts
+ As ye tack over a clashing sea of watery echoes?
+
+
+
+
+PHONOGRAPH--TANGO
+
+
+ Old dances are simplified of their yearning, bleached by Time.
+ Yet from one black disc
+ we tasted again the bite of crude Spanish passion.
+
+ ... He had got into her courtyard.
+ She was alone that night.
+ Through the black night-rain, he sang to her window bars:
+
+ _Love me, love--ah, love me!_
+ _If you will not, I can follow_
+ _Into the highest of mountains;_
+ _And there, in the wooden cabin,_
+ _I will strangle you for your lover._
+
+ --That was but rustling of dripping plants in the dark.
+ More tightly under his cloak, he clasped his guitar.
+
+ _Love, ah-h! love me, love me!_
+ _If you will do this, I can buy_
+ _A fringed silk scarf of yellow,_
+ _A high comb carved of tortoise;_
+ _Then we will dance in the Plaza._
+
+ She was alone that night.
+ He had broken into her courtyard.
+ Above the gurgling gutters
+ he heard--
+ surely--
+ a door unchained?
+
+ The passage was black; but he risked it--
+ death in the darkness--
+ or her hot arms--(_love--love me ah-h-h!_)
+
+ "A good old tune," she murmured
+ --and I found we were dancing.
+
+
+
+
+DECORATION
+
+
+ A little pagan child-god plays
+ Beyond the far horizon haze,
+ And underneath the twilight trees
+ He blows a bubble to the breeze,
+ Which is borne upward in the night
+ And makes the heavens shine with light.
+ But soon it sinks to earth again,
+ And, hitting hills, it bursts! And then
+ With foam the skies are splashed and sprayed;
+ And that's how all the stars are made.
+
+
+
+
+THRENODY
+
+
+ She is lain with high things and with low.
+ She lies
+ With shut eyes,
+ Rocked in the eternal flow
+ Of silence evermore.
+
+ Desperately immortal, she;
+ She stands
+ With wide hands
+ Dim through the veil of eternity,
+ Behind the supreme door.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+J. R. DOS PASSOS
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDGE
+
+
+ The lonely bridge cuts dark across the marsh
+ Whose long pools glow with the light
+ Of a flaring summer sunset.
+ At this end limp bushes overhang,
+ Palely reflected in the amber-colored water;
+ Among them a constant banjo-twanging of frogs,
+ And shrilling of toads and of insects
+ Rises and falls in chorus rhythmic and stirring.
+
+ Dark, with crumbling railing and planks,
+ The bridge leads into the sunset.
+ Across it many lonely figures,
+ Their eyes a-flare with the sunset,
+ Their faces glowing with its colors,
+ Tramp past me through the evening.
+
+ I am tired of sitting quiet
+ Among the bushes of the shore,
+ While the dark bridge stretches onward,
+ And the long pools gleam with light;
+ I am tired of the shrilling of insects
+ And the croaking of frogs in the rushes,
+ For the wild rice in the marsh-pools
+ Waves its beckoning streamers in the wind,
+ And the red sky-glory fades.
+
+
+
+
+SALVATION ARMY
+
+
+ A drum pounds out the hymn,
+ Loud with gaudy angels, tinsel cherubim,
+ To drown the fanfare of the street,
+ And with exultant lilting beat,
+ To mingle the endless rumble of carts,
+ The scrape of feet, the noise of marts
+ And dinning market stalls, where women shout
+ Their wares, and meat hangs out--
+ Grotesque, distorted by the gas flare's light--
+ Into one sacred rhythm for the Devil's spite.
+
+ A woman's thin, raucous voice
+ Carries the tune, bids men rejoice,
+ Bathe in God's mercy,
+ Draw near and learn salvation, see
+ With their own eyes the mystery.
+ Cymbals, at the hands of a tired girl,
+ Slim wisp amid the swirl
+ Of crowded streets, take up the tune,
+ Monotonously importune.
+ Faces are wan in the arc-light's livid glare;
+ A wind gust carries the band's flare
+ Of song, in noisy eddies echoing,
+ Round lonely black street-corners,
+
+ Till, with distance dimming,
+ It fades away,
+ Among the silent, dark array
+ Of city houses where no soul stirs.
+
+ The crowd thins, the players are alone;
+ In their faith's raucous monotone,
+ Loud with gaudy angels, tinsel cherubim,
+ A drum pounds out the hymn.
+
+
+
+
+INCARNATION
+
+
+ Incessantly the long rain falls,
+ Slanting on black walls,
+ Which glisten gold where a street lamp shines.
+
+ In a shop-window, spangled in long lines,
+ By rain-drops all a-glow,
+ An Italian woman's face
+ Flames into my soul as I go
+ Hastily by in the turbulent darkness;--
+ An oval olive face,
+ With the sweetly sullen grace
+ Of the Virgin when first she sees,
+ Amid her garden's silver lilies,
+ The white-robed angel gleam,
+ And softly, as by a sultry dream,
+ Feels all her soul subdued unto the fire
+ And radiance of her ecstasy.
+ So in some picture, on which as on a lyre,
+ An old Italian painter laboriously has played
+ His soul away, his love, all his desire
+ For fragrant things afar from earth,
+ Shines the Madonna, as with a veil overlaid
+ By incense-smoke and dust age-old,
+ At whose feet, in time of dearth
+ Or need, a myriad men have laid
+ Their sorrows and arisen bold.
+
+ Incessantly the long rain falls,
+ Slanting on black walls.
+ But through the dark interminable streets,
+ Along pavements where rain beats
+ Its sharp tattoo, and gas-lamps shine,
+ Greenish gold in the solitude,
+ The vision flames through my mood
+ Of that Italian woman's face,
+ Through the dripping window-pane.
+
+
+
+
+MEMORY
+
+
+ Between rounded hills,
+ White with patches of buckwheat, whose fragrance fills
+ The little breeze that makes the birch-leaves quiver,
+ Beside a rollicking swift river,
+ Light green in the deeps,--
+ Like your eyes in sunshine,--
+ Winds the canal,
+ Lazy and brown as a water-snake,
+ Full of dazzle and sheen where the breeze sweeps
+ The water with gossamer garments, that shake
+ The reeds standing sentinel,
+ And the marginal line
+ Of birches and willows.
+
+ Our little steamer pulls its way
+ With jingle of bells and panting throb
+ Of old engines.
+ In stiff array
+ The water-reeds wave,
+ And solemnly sway
+ To the wash and swell of our passing.
+ Among the reeds the ripples sob,
+ And die away,
+ 'Till the canal is still again, save
+ For a kingfisher's flashing
+ Across the noon shimmer.
+
+ I stood beside you in the bow,
+ Watched the sunlight lose itself among your hair,
+ That the breeze tugged at.
+ Bright as the shattered sun-rays, where the prow
+ Cut the still water,
+ The warm light caught and tangled there,
+ Red gold amid your hair.
+
+ You were very slim in your blue serge dress....
+ We talked of meaningless things, education,
+ Agreed that unless,
+ Something were changed disaster would come to the nation.
+ You smiled when I pointed where
+ A group of birches shivered in the green wood-shadow,
+ Up to their knees in water, white and fair
+ As dryads bathing.
+ A row
+ Of flat white houses and a wharf
+ Glided in sight.
+ The hoarse whistle shrieked for a landing;
+ Bells jangled.... You were standing
+ A slim blue figure amid the wharf's crowd;
+ The little steamer creaked against the side, loud
+ Screamed the whistle again....
+
+ Monotonously the solemn reeds
+ Waved to our passing;
+ Ahead the canal shimmered, blotched green by the water-weeds.
+ With a grinding swing
+ And see-saw of sound,
+ The steamer slunk down the canal.
+
+ I never even knew your name....
+
+ That night from a dingy hotel room,
+ I saw the moon, like a golden gong,
+ Redly loom
+ Across the lake; like a golden gong
+ In a temple, which a priest ere long
+ Will strike into throbbing song,
+ To wake some silent twinkling city to prayer.
+ The lake waves were flakes of red gold,
+ Burnished to copper,
+ Gold, red as the tangled gleam
+ Of sunlight in your hair.
+
+
+
+
+SATURNALIA
+
+
+ In earth's womb the old gods stir,
+ Fierce chthonian dieties of old time.
+ With cymbals and rattle of castanets,
+ And shriek of slug-horns, the North Wind
+ Bows the oak and the moaning fir,
+ On russet hills and by roadsides stiff with rime.
+
+ In nature, dead, the life gods stir,
+ From Rhadamanthus and the Isles,
+ Where Saturn rules the Age of Gold,
+ Come old, old ghosts of bygone gods;
+ While dim mists earth's outlines blur,
+ And drip all night from lichen-greened roof-tiles.
+
+ In men's hearts the mad gods rise
+ And fill the streets with revelling,
+ With torchlight that glances on frozen pools,
+ With tapers starring the thick-fogged night,
+ A-dance, like strayed fireflies,
+ 'Mid dim mad throngs who Saturn's orisons sing.
+
+ In driven clouds the old gods come,
+ When fogs the face of Apollo have veiled;
+ A fear of things, unhallowed, strange,
+ And a fierce free joy flares in the land.
+ Men mutter runes in language dead,
+ By night, with rumbling drum,
+ In quaking groves where the woodland spirits are hailed.
+
+ To earth's brood of souls of old,
+ With covered heads and aspen wands,
+ Mist-shrouded priests do ancient rites;
+ The black ram's fleece is stained with blood,
+ That steams, dull red on the frozen ground;
+ And pale votaries shiver with the cold,
+ That numbs the earth, and etches patterned mirrors on the ponds.
+
+
+
+
+"WHAN THAT APRILLE ..."
+
+
+ Is it the song of a meadow lark
+ Off the brown, sere salt marshes,
+ Or the eager patches in dooryards
+ Of yellow and pale lilac crocuses;
+ Or else the suburban street golden with sunlight,
+ And the bare branches of elm trees
+ Twined in the delicate sky?
+ Or is it the merry piping
+ Of a distant hurdy-gurdy?--
+ That makes me so weary and faint with desire
+ For strange lands and new scents;
+ For the rough-rhythmed clank
+ Of train couplings at night,
+ And the stormy, gay-tinted sunrises
+ That shade with purple the contours
+ Of far-off, unfamiliar hills.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT PIECE
+
+
+ A silver web has the moon spun,
+ A silver web upon all the sky,
+ Where the frail stars quiver, every one
+ Like tangled gnats that hum and die.
+
+ The moon has tangled the dull night
+ In her silver skein and set alight
+ Each dew-damp branch with milky flame.
+ And huge the moon broods on the night.
+
+ My soul is caught in the web of the moon,
+ Like a shrilling gnat in a spider's web.
+ Importunate memories shrill in my ears
+ Like the gnats that die in the spider web.
+
+ Lovely as death, in the moon's shroud,
+ Were town streets, grey houses, dim,
+ Full of strange peace in the silent night.
+ As we walked our footsteps clattered loud.
+ We felt the night as a troubled song ...
+ Oh, the triumphing sense of life a-throb.
+ Behind those walls, in those dark streets,
+ Like the sound of a river, swift, unseen,
+ Flowing in darkness. Oh, the hoarse
+ Half-heard murmur swirling beneath
+ The snowy beauty of moonlight....
+
+ And that other night,
+ When the river rippled with faint spears
+ Of street lights vaguely reflected. Grey
+ The evening, like an opal; low,
+ A grey moon shrouded in sea fog:
+ Air pregnant with spring; rasp of my steps
+ Beside the lapping water; within
+ The dark. Down the worn out years a sob
+ Of broken loves; old pain
+ Of dead farewells; and one face
+ Fading into grey....
+
+ A silver web has the moon spun,
+ A silver web over all the sky.
+ In her flooding glory, one by one,
+ Like gnats in a web the stars die.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT HILLYER
+
+
+
+
+FOUR SONNETS FROM A SONNET-SEQUENCE
+
+
+I
+
+ Quickly and pleasantly the seasons blow
+ Over the meadows of eternity,
+ As wave on wave the pulsings of the sea
+ Merge and are lost, each in the other's flow.
+ Time is no lover; it is only he
+ That is the one unconquerable foe,
+ He is the sudden tempest none can know,
+ Winged with swift winds the none may hope to flee.
+
+ Fair child of loveliness, these endless fears
+ Are nought to us; let us be gods of stone,
+ And set our images beyond the years
+ On some high mount where we can be alone.
+ And thou shalt ever be as now thou art,
+ And I shall watch thee with untroubled heart.
+
+
+II
+
+ Then judge me as thou wilt, I cannot flee,
+ I cannot turn away from thee forever,
+ For there are bonds that wisdom cannot sever
+ And slaves with souls far freer than the free.
+ Such strong desires the universal Giver
+ With unknown plan has buried deep in me
+ That the exquisite joy of watching thee
+ Has dominated all my life's endeavor.
+
+ Thou weariest of having me so near,
+ I feel the scorn thou hast within thy heart,
+ And yet thy face has never seemed so dear
+ As now, when I am minded to depart.
+ Though thou shouldst drive me hence, I love thee so
+ That I would watch thee when thou dost not know.
+
+
+III
+
+ Fly, joyous wind, through all the wakened earth
+ Now when the portals of the dawn outpour
+ A myriad wonders from the radiant store
+ Of spring's deep passion and loud-ringing mirth.
+ Cry to the world that I despair no more,
+ Heart greets my heart and hope has proved its worth;
+ Fly where the legions of the sun have birth,
+ Chant everywhere and everywhere adore.
+
+
+ Circle the basking hills in fragrant flight,
+ Shout Rapture! Rapture! if sweet sorrow passes,
+ And whisper low in intimate delight
+ My love-song to the undulating grasses.
+ Grief is no more, love rises with the spring,
+ O fly, free wind, and Rapture! Rapture! sing.
+
+
+IV
+
+ Long after both of us are scattered dust
+ And some strange souls perchance shall read of thee,
+ Finding the yearnings that have crushed from me
+ These poor confessions of my love and trust,
+ I know how misinterpreted will be
+ These lines, for men will laugh, or more unjust,
+ Thinking not once of love, but only lust,
+ Will stain the vesture of our memory.
+
+ And yet a few there may be who will feel
+ My deep devotion and my true desires,
+ And know that these unhappy words reveal
+ Only new images in changeless fires;
+ And they perchance will linger with a sigh
+ To think that beauty such as thine must die.
+
+
+
+
+A SEA GULL
+
+
+ Grey wings, O grey wings against a cloud,
+ Over the rough waves flashing,
+ Whose was the scream, startling and loud,
+ Keen through the skies,--was it thine,
+ Over the moaning wind and the whine
+ Of the wide seas dashing?
+ Whose was the scream that I heard
+ In the midst of the hurrying air?
+ Was it thine, lost bird,
+ Or the voice of an old despair
+ Chanting from years long dead,
+ Inexorable spirit flying
+ On tempest wings that passed and fled
+ Through the storm crying?
+
+
+
+
+DOMESDAY
+
+
+ The garlands and the songs of May
+ Shall welcome in the Judgment Day;
+ About the basking country-side
+ Blossom the souls of them that died.
+ O Dead awake! Arise in bloom
+ Upon the joyous dawn of doom.
+
+ They rise up from the bleeding earth
+ In gracious legions of re-birth,
+ Each as a flower or a tree
+ Of verdant immortality.
+ And hosts of glad-voiced angels sing
+ In the rippling groves of spring.
+
+ From the grave of youth there grows
+ A passionately-petaled rose,
+ Where the virgin whitely lies
+ A lily fair as Paradise.
+ And in that old oak's leafy glee
+ Some gouty sire makes sport of me.
+
+ O Dead of yore and yesterday
+ All hail the resurrecting May!
+ Beside you in the flowering grass
+ The feet of youth and love shall pass,
+ And we that greet you with a smile
+ Shall join you in a little while.
+
+
+
+
+TO A PASSEPIED BY SCARLATTI
+
+
+ Strange little tune so thin and rare
+ Like scents of roses of long ago,
+ Quavering lightly upon the strings
+ Of a violin, and dying there
+ With a dancing flutter of delicate wings;
+ Thy courtly joy and thy gentle woe,
+ Thy gracious gladness and plaintive fears
+ Are lost in the clamorous age we know,
+ And pale like a moon in the lurid day;
+ A phantom of music, strangely fled
+ From the princely halls of the quiet dead,
+ Down the long lanes of the vanished years
+ Echoing frailly and far away.
+
+
+
+
+ELEGY FOR ANTINOUS
+
+
+ Come, let us hasten hence and weep no more,
+ The sinking sea flows on its tranquil ways,
+ Night looms serenely at the eastern door
+ And trails the last cloud into lifeless haze.
+ Antinous is dead, we kneel before
+ The portals of our past in vain, nor raise
+ The laughing phantoms of our yesterdays
+ Upon this desolate and empty shore.
+
+ Now deepening pools of shadow overflow
+ Into the sea of dark; a far-off bell
+ Sobs with a sweet vibration long and slow
+ A last farewell, forevermore, farewell;
+ And will He wake and hear? We cannot tell;
+ And will He answer? Ah, we do not know.
+
+
+
+
+SONG
+
+
+ O crimson rose, O crimson rose,
+ Crushed lightly in two little hands;
+ A child's soft kiss was in your heart,
+ A child's warm breath was in your soul.
+
+ The child is gone, O crimson rose,
+ And stained and hardened are the hands,
+ And who shall find your golden heart
+ And who shall kiss your withered soul?
+
+ Happy are you, O crimson rose,
+ But I have stains upon my hands;
+ You died with kisses in your heart,
+ I live with sorrow in my soul.
+
+
+
+
+"MY PEACE I LEAVE WITH YOU"
+
+
+ He pondered long, and watched the darkening space
+ Close the red portals whence the hours had run,
+ As like young wistful angels, one by one,
+ The stars cast timid flowers about His face.
+ "Yea, now another scarlet day is done!"
+ He cried in anguish, and with sudden grace
+ Stretched forth His arms, as though He would erase
+ The few, dim embers of the scattered sun.
+
+ "The scarlet day is done, and soon the light
+ Will wake again my desecrated skies.
+ Oh, that another dawn might never rise!--
+ My foolish children!" Through the vast of night
+ The young stars shivered in a silver horde
+ Before the Infinite Sorrow of their Lord.
+
+
+
+
+THE RECOMPENSE
+
+
+ When the last song is sung, and the last spark
+ Of light dies out forever, and the dark,
+ The voiceless dark eternal shrouds the earth;
+ When the last cries of pain and shouts of mirth
+ Sink in the desolate silences of space;
+ Where then shall flower the beauty of your face,
+ O Love the laughing, Youth the rose-in-hand,
+ In what unknown and undiscovered land
+ Shall flower then the beauty of your face?
+
+ I know not but I know that all returns
+ At last unchanged, and to the heart that yearns
+ Shall be repaid all loneliness and loss.
+ Sometime with shadowy sails shall fly across
+ The shoreless ocean of infinity
+ A ship from out the past, and the great sea
+ Of life shall bear you from the strange worlds over
+ The waves, and back again to the old lover.
+
+ Yes, in some future far beyond surmise
+ You will dream here with half-remembering eyes,
+ And I shall write these words, content awhile
+ In the slow round of time to see you smile.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+R. S. MITCHELL
+
+
+
+
+POPPY SONG
+
+
+I
+
+ Footsteps soft as fall the rose's
+ Petals on a dewy lawn,
+ Shaken when the wind uncloses
+ Golden gateways for the dawn;
+
+ Laughter light as is the swallows'
+ Chatter in the evening sky,
+ Wafted upward from the hollows
+ Where the limpid waters lie;
+
+ Weeping faint as is the willow's
+ By the margin of the lake,
+ Trembling into tiny billows
+ That the silent teardrops make;
+
+ Phantoms fitful and uncertain
+ As the pearly autumn rain,
+ Sweeping on in cloudy curtain
+ Down the wide way of the plain.
+
+
+II
+
+ Oh, unhappy now to waken
+ When the dream had scarce begun!
+ Out of gentle twilight taken
+ Into realms of burning sun:
+
+ Oh, unhappy now to find me
+ Lost 'neath heavens hot with noon;
+ All that fairy land behind me;
+ Poppy fields and rising moon!
+
+ Drawbridge and portcullis screeching,
+ Bugles braying soon and late;
+ Who are they that come beseeching,
+ Calling at my castle gate?
+
+ Drive them hence, for they encumber
+ Days and nights with waking pain;
+ Tell them that I lie and slumber
+ Under poppies, wet with rain.
+
+ Who art thou that bendest praying
+ Over me with clasped palms;
+ Dim through surging darkness, saying
+ Words of prayer and murmured psalms?
+
+ Who art thou that kneelest weeping
+ By the border of my bed?
+ Cease thou, for I was but sleeping--
+ Dreaming, only, and not dead!
+
+
+III
+
+ Phantoms flitting and uncertain
+ Sweeping round the endless plain;
+ Autumn twilight's dusky curtain,
+ Drowsy poppies, drenched with rain.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE DREAM
+
+
+ Strange that on warp and woof of dreams
+ Fancy should weave the web of truth,
+ And yet this fairy figment seems
+ Part of a half-forgotten youth
+ Stolen from days I thought were sped
+ Out of the world beyond the dead.
+
+ Smiled she not when at the edge
+ Of evening we walked alone
+ Plucking spring's blossoms from the hedge
+ That she might wear them as her own,
+ Or do I hold a hopeless tryst
+ Here with a shadow, made of mist?
+
+ Now as will crumpled rose leaves, pent
+ By fingers we can never know,
+ Rouse with the richness of their scent,
+ Thoughts of a summer long ago,
+ All the expanse of land and sea
+ Speaks with a thousand tongues to me.
+
+ 'Twas from coast we watched slow form,
+ Out of the frosty ocean's breath,
+ The blue-gray ramparts of the storm
+ Flashing with signal fires of death,
+ Whilst with a murmur, far and wide,
+ Swept in the low wind with the tide.
+
+ Then, at last, when lips were dumb
+ With fear of parting, did we wend
+ Along the meadow lanes that come
+ From nowhere, and in nothing end,
+ And, smiling, kiss, though ill at ease,
+ Under the rustling orchard trees.
+
+ But will the promise given keep?
+ Can the heart love still when 'tis dead?
+ What if the spirit, waked from sleep,
+ Never recall the words it said?
+ Dwell in a dreamland, or else be
+ Lost in life's eternity?
+
+
+
+
+THE ISLAND OF DEATH
+
+
+ There is an island in a silent sea
+ That rises--four, rough, rugged walls--on high
+ Above the ocean in calm majesty.
+ A mountain of despair against the sky!
+ About its summit soaring seagulls fly,
+ Or rest them in its lofty cypress trees,
+ And greet the black barge bearing those who die
+ Upon our earth to everlasting ease
+ And pleasant lives that know not man's eternities.
+
+ White halls and palaces their dwellings stand;
+ These shadowy souls are all unknown to graves
+ And live, faint phantoms in a fairy land
+ Of dreams and idleness. They hear the waves
+ Sing, and the winds come calling from the caves
+ Of night beyond the ocean, and the cry
+ Of screaming gulls; stare at each ship that braves
+ This wilderness of waters, and glides by
+ In awe-struck silence, ever fearing to draw nigh.
+
+ The sun, descending, sows the sea with gold,
+ And showers splendour through the fading skies,
+ Whilst from the murky waters they behold
+ The moon, a shape of silver, slow arise.
+ And every evening, as the daylight dies,
+ There comes that bark of death, whose white sail seems
+ An angel in the dark. A while it lies
+ Below them in the harbour, then there gleams
+ A new shape on the stairs up to that land of dreams.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
+
+
+ Then, as the whispering evening crossed the sea,
+ Sweeping the waters with her veil of grey,
+ Wave-worn and weary of the ocean, we
+ Beheld the enchanted island far away--
+ Half hidden in the twilight low it lay
+ On the horizon like a lazy cloud,
+ Its coasts encompassed with long lines of spray.
+ We spread the sails and swiftly the ship plowed
+ The purple path ahead until the surf sang loud.
+
+ Between the cliffs, by the faint stars, we found
+ A gloomy gate, and boldly sailing in,
+ Watched the dark mountains slowly closing round,
+ And heard faint echoes of the ocean's din
+ Melting like spirits' voices, fleet and thin;
+ When of a sudden, as we faltered nigh,
+ Out of the hills where only night had been
+ A mist of minarets and towers high,
+ Rose like the yellow light of morning in the sky.
+
+ Gazing we drifted toward that golden bloom
+ Of palaces whose light glowed on our sail;
+ There we floated wrapped in wild perfume;
+ Then music burst upon us in a gale;
+ Grave, deep-toned trumpets and the lyre's long wail,
+ And farther, the faint sound of singing men.
+ We grasped our oars--but slowly, as will pale
+ The morning star, the vision faded, then
+ The empty dark swept in and all was night again!
+
+
+
+
+THRENODY
+
+
+ Have you forgotten me,
+ O my beloved?
+ Have you deserted me
+ Now in the autumn?
+
+ See where the swallows fly
+ South o'er the ocean:
+ Soon will the winter wind
+ Sweep the Ægean.
+
+ Up from the vineyard comes
+ Music of laughter;
+ Far through the valleys they
+ Gather the harvest.
+
+ Westward the evening star
+ Sinks in the mountains;
+ Pale 'neath the rising moon
+ Lies Mytilene.
+
+ Here where the headland looks
+ Wide o'er the water,
+ I have brought laurel leaves,
+ Decking your barrow.
+
+ Why do I linger now
+ Vainly lamenting?
+ O it is lonely, love,--
+ Lonely in Lesbos!
+
+
+
+
+HELEN
+
+
+ Again the voices of the hunting horns
+ And the new moon, low lying on the hills,
+ Tell that the summer night is on its way.--
+ O languid heart, shalt thou much longer watch
+ This pale procession of the silent hours
+ Melt into shadows of unending years?
+ Much longer feed on yearning and despair
+ And all the anguish of departed time?
+ Tomorrow is as yesterday; today
+ No nearer than the morning when there stood
+ In Leda's palace, asking for my hand,
+ Tall Menelaus with his yellow hair;
+ No nearer now than the first time these hands
+ Dared linger in caress upon the curls
+ Of him whose dark eyes laughed their love to mine.
+ 'Tis only as if one short, restless sleep
+ Lay over the wide chasm of the years
+ Beyond which loom lost faith and ruined Troy.
+ The night wind brings, as twenty summers since,
+ The silver-breasted swallows from the Nile
+ To quiet Sparta, nestled in her hills,
+ Locked inland from the voices of the sea;
+ And far across the porticos I hear
+ The ivory shuttle singing in the loom
+ 'Midst maidens' chatter, as in olden days;
+ And men still murmur as they pass me by:
+ "Lo, look on her, the wonder of the world,
+ Beauteous Helen, Lacedæmon's Queen!"
+ I watch them gaze intently on my face
+ As they would keep it in their memory
+ Forever, and the very while they gaze
+ I see the flame of Troy gleam in their eyes.
+
+ I think sometimes I have already passed
+ Into the kingdom of untroubled death,
+ And wandering lonely amongst them I knew
+ In Hellas or that land beyond the seas,
+ Behold each shadow as it passes by
+ Shrink half involuntarily, and turn,
+ And veil its face and vanish in the gloom.
+ Whilst out of that dim distance whence my steps
+ Are moving and to which they shall return
+ After an interval of endless years,
+ There comes a voice that calls me from afar:
+ "Art thou not Helen, dowered of the gods
+ With all that man can covet? Wert thou not
+ Created the most beautiful of earth,
+ And is not beauty wisdom, wisdom power?
+ What hast thou done with their almighty gift?"
+ And then, ere I would answer, silence falls
+ Around me, and the dark divides, and I
+ See the blue twilight on the Spartan hills.
+
+
+
+
+LARGO
+
+
+ Thou only from this sorrow wert relief,
+ Inviolate death, grave deity of rest,
+ Wherein all things past somehow seem the best
+ That ever could have come to be. Proud grief
+ Her lustrous torch hath lighted in this brief
+ Dim time before the dark, when the wide west
+ Fades where illimitable skies suggest
+ Days vanished in the beauty of belief.
+
+ As one unto a battle come, that stands
+ Aloof awhile, beholding friend and foe
+ Clashing in conflict, till his soul commands
+ He, too, prest on whither the bugles blow,
+ Lifting his eyes sees over wasted lands
+ Life's dust and shadow drifting to and fro.
+
+
+
+
+LAZARUS
+
+
+ At morn we passed a hall where song
+ And dance had been and wine flowed free,
+ And where, 'mid wrecks of revelry,
+ Had lain the feasters all night long.
+
+ They saw us through the mist of dawn,
+ And, turning, called us to their feast--
+ The sound of lutes and cymbals ceased--
+ But one He fixed His gaze upon.
+
+ In whose wide eyes there seemed to be--
+ Behind the laughing, wine-flushed face
+ And tilted ivy-crown's gay grace--
+ Faint glimpses of Eternity.
+
+ Then sad, the Master bowed His head,
+ And, through the rosy twilight, dim,
+ Walked up and softly spake to him:
+ "Art thou not he that late was dead?"
+
+ The drinker raised his cup on high,
+ And murmured: "Priest of Nazareth,
+ I am he thou didst raise from death--
+ Lo, thus I wait again to die!"
+
+
+
+
+A CRUCIFIX
+
+
+ This was the cross of God on which men's eyes
+ Dwelt with the love of dead divinity,
+ As they who by the desolate orient sea
+ In battle made their sainted sacrifice,
+ Dreaming their boundless striving should devise
+ A symbol whereby men might know that he
+ Who wins his way on earth to victory,
+ Thus in his consummated sorrow dies.
+
+ All things are sacred to that tender sight:
+ Time's ancient altars whence strange incense curled
+ Innocent to the unknown gods; the light
+ Of love is thine; faith's banner is unfurled,
+ Even where the farthest watchmen, through the night,
+ Call on the cloud-wrapped ramparts of the world.
+
+
+
+
+NEITH
+
+
+ Somehow the spirit of that day--
+ Rain-clouded streets and brooding air--
+ Determined me to live and dare,
+ Living, to laugh the world away.
+
+ As in a crystal dreamers see
+ Out of unwinding mists arise
+ The splendors of some paradise
+ Woven of gold and ivory;
+
+ Deep in the globe of thought I saw
+ Dawn from tempestuous dust that form
+ Toward which the endless ages storm
+ Uproarious--to break with awe.
+
+ Of all things ignorant, yet wise,
+ Sitting enthroned at life's last goal,
+ Dividing body from the soul,
+ Looking at each with flameless eyes.
+
+ Immutable, unknown, unsung,
+ Through triumph and delight unearned,
+ Through sorrow undeserved, I learned
+ Salvation from thy wordless tongue.
+
+ Then flying the embracing gloom
+ Of burnt-out days and parched desire,
+ I built my soul an altar fire
+ Of laughter in the face of doom.
+
+
+
+
+A FAREWELL
+
+
+ Nay: by this desolate sea our troubled ways
+ Shall separate forever; swift hath sped
+ The hour of youth, and yet to hang the head,
+ Lamenting lost things of departed days,
+ Were only from that shadowland to raise
+ A wraith, that whispering of the quiet dead,
+ Would mimic the strange life of love; instead,
+ Let us relent and hail the past with praise.
+
+ Go, then; and should inevitable fate
+ Lead us at last beyond the world of men
+ Where laurel and applause content no more,
+ Whither the soul takes silence for its mate,
+ There might we meet, and, smiling, once again
+ Clasp hands and part upon some windy shore.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM A. NORRIS
+
+
+
+
+OF TOO MUCH SONG
+
+
+ Sedges, have you sung too much,
+ Sedges gray along the shore?
+ Can this autumn tempest touch
+ Answering chords in you no more?
+ Is the summer all forgot?--
+ Now the ice is dark and strong
+ That has bound you to the spot--
+ Did you die of too much song?
+
+ Something in me is a harp
+ Played by every wanton breeze.
+ Moaning soft and piping sharp
+ Are its wondrous melodies.
+ Is the playing over-fast
+ Though the answer now is strong?
+ Like the sedges at the last
+ Will it die of too much song?
+
+
+
+
+[WHEREVER MY DREAMS GO]
+
+
+ Wherever my dreams go, you are always there,
+ And you and I have gone to many a land,
+ Seeing high hills at dawn and desert sand,
+ Temples and mosques and people bowed in prayer.
+ We too have prayed in many places where
+ Beauty has come as I have clasped your hand,
+ And through long silence learned to understand
+ The dumb sweet language of your eyes and hair.
+
+ We have been lovers in all fair romances
+ Beyond the rising or the sunken sun.
+ There have been foes to meet, and I have done
+ Great deeds beneath the splendor of your glances....
+ And yet I dreamed alone; you could not guess
+ What joy you brought into my loneliness.
+
+
+
+
+[OUT OF THE LITTLENESS]
+
+
+ Out of the littleness that wraps my days,
+ The oppressive mist of gray and common things,
+ Sometimes my dream on its audacious wings,
+ Dripping with golden fire, above the haze,
+ Flashes and veers against the sudden blaze
+ Of sunlight. There no other wings may gleam
+ But only yours, companioning my dream
+ In its strange flight up new and radiant ways.
+
+ And once, I thought, in a far solitude,
+ The black waves moaned and broke unutterably
+ On a stern cliff where hand in hand we stood.
+ There were none near us when the dark had gone,--
+ Only the clean wind of a sailless sea,
+ And you and I alone in the great dawn.
+
+
+
+
+NAHANT
+
+
+ Last night the sea was an enchanted moan
+ And a pale pathway that the moonlight made.
+ All night it sorrowed in the dark alone,
+ Groping with ghostly fingers, half afraid,
+ Up the great rocks and sobbing back again,
+ Weary of search, yet still unsatisfied.
+ It seemed to have the voice of all dead men
+ And all fair women who had ever died.
+
+ But now the sun has risen, and the spray
+ Leaps into sudden light along the shore.
+ Each little wave has caught a golden ray--
+ As if the dawn had never come before.
+ Beyond the cliffs brown fishing boats go by
+ Under the reach of the wide laughing sky.
+
+
+
+
+QUI SUB LUNA ERRANT
+
+
+ In a strange land they dwell, too far away
+ From sunlight and the common mirth of men
+ Ever to come within our casual ken.
+ We see them not, but if by chance we stray
+ Down cypress aisles when the wan summer day
+ Draws to a thin and sickly close, we hear
+ Murmur of mad speech by some watery weir
+ Or languid laughter and faint sound of play.
+
+ They never see the dawn; like the pale moths
+ That haunt lugubrious shadows of dim trees
+ They celebrate their lunar mysteries
+ At woodland shrines, where with green thyrsus rods
+ And weak limbs wrapped in silken sensuous cloths
+ They chant the names of their dead pagan gods.
+
+
+
+
+[ACROSS THE TAUT STRINGS]
+
+
+ Across the taut strings of my yearning soul
+ Pass fingers of all fleet and beautiful things:
+ Comings of dawn and moonlight glimmerings,
+ Mid-summer hush and Sabbath bells that toll
+ Over broad fields, a sound of thrushes' wings
+ Near sunset hour, a girl with lips apart,
+ Wonder and laughter,--these have touched my heart
+ And left their music lingering on its strings.
+
+ At twilight of some gray, eventual year,
+ A few late friends will turn, with trembling breath,
+ From the raw mound of earth that hides my face....
+ Yet I shall still find beauty, even in death,
+ And some lone traveller of the night will hear
+ An echo of music in that quiet place.
+
+
+
+
+ESCAPE
+
+
+ They danced beneath the stars, a crazy rout
+ With antic steps that had some little grace;
+ And one leapt high with song and frenzied shout,
+ And one ran silent with a gleaming face.
+
+ They danced until the shy moon looking down
+ Deemed herself lost above some Grecian glade;
+ A mile away the trim New England town
+ Echoed the Bacchanalian din they made.
+
+ And still they danced, until the moon sank low,
+ Blushing a little, and night's diadem
+ Of stars grew pale before the eastern glow....
+ And with the dawn their keepers came for them.
+
+
+
+
+ON A STREET CORNER
+
+
+ But all the time you spoke I did not hear
+ The words you said. I only heard a far
+ Faint sound of summer waters and a clear
+ Calling of music from some lonely star.
+ I thought I heard the lisp of falling dew
+ In a dark meadow where no breezes stirred....
+ Then all at once the noisy street, and you
+ Smiling at me because I had not heard!
+
+
+
+
+SEA-BURIAL
+
+
+ Over the sands the swollen tide came creeping,
+ Over the sands beneath the gleaming moon;
+ At first it seemed a child's uncertain croon,
+ And then a sound of many mourners weeping.
+ Then all at once a crested wave was sweeping
+ Around the still form in the moonlight there,
+ Twining its silver fingers in her hair....
+ And yet it could not rouse her from her sleeping.
+
+ With dawn the tide went seaward, bearing her
+ In its strong arms that clung so tenderly,
+ And laid her in a strange place far away
+ Where the tall seaweeds rise and never stir....
+ And there she sleeps, while pass alternately
+ The brooding night and the green luminous day.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+DUDLEY POORE
+
+
+
+
+A RENAISSANCE PICTURE
+
+
+ Calm little figure, ivy-crowned,
+ How long beneath the barren tree
+ Where this pale, martyred god has found
+ Surcease from his long agony,
+ You watch with an untroubled gaze
+ Life move on its accustomed ways!
+
+ Within your childish heart there dwells
+ No sorrow that uprising dims
+ Your eye, whence not a teardrop wells
+ For pity of those writhen limbs,
+ Or for the travail of a race
+ Consummate in one lifeless face.
+
+ Though tinkling caravans go by
+ Forever over twilight sands,
+ With myrrh and cassia laden high
+ For other shrines in other lands,
+ No weight of grief thereat you know,
+ But softly on your pan-pipes blow.
+
+ From what dim mountain have you strayed,
+ Where, ringed by the Hellenic seas,
+ You dwelt in an untrodden glade
+ Sacred to woodland deities,
+ Along whose faint paths went at dawn
+ Endymion or a dancing faun?
+
+ From groves where sacrificing throngs
+ Called you by some fair Grecian name,
+ With ritual meet and choric songs,
+ Strange, that to this dark hill you came
+ To seek, unmindful of their loss,
+ A refuge underneath the cross.
+
+ There is some deeper secret lies
+ Hidden out of human sight
+ In keeping of those tranquil eyes
+ That shine with such immortal light,
+ And in their shadows gleam and glow
+ While still upon your pipes you blow.
+
+ All but inscrutable, your gaze
+ Declares your place is even here,
+ Sharing this martyr's cup of praise,
+ And year by sadly westering year,
+ Till the last altar lights grow dim,
+ Dividing sovereignty with him.
+
+
+
+
+THE PHILOSOPHER'S GARDEN
+
+
+ Some strange and exquisite desire
+ Has thrilled this flowering almond tree
+ Whose branches shake so wistfully,
+ Else wherefore does it bloom in fire?
+ Why scatter pollen on the air,
+ Marry its pale buds each to each,
+ The year's unkindly tempests bear,
+ Or to the calm clear sunlight reach?
+
+ Yet I can give that hope no name,
+ Nor that divine emotion share,
+ For, though I see it flowering there,
+ Because our speech is not the same
+ The passionate secret must lie hid
+ Burdened with unexpressed delight,
+ Where none of all man's race can bid
+ It forth, or voice its beauty right.
+
+ There's nought in earth or heaven knows
+ That hope for which our being longs,
+ The stars are busied with their songs,
+ The universal springtime flows
+ From sun to sun in scorn of man,
+ Careless if he be quick or dead,
+ Or if this earth, as it began,
+ Be voiceless and untenanted.
+
+
+
+
+THE TREE OF STARS
+
+
+ There stands a tree where no man knows,
+ And like an earthly tree it grows,
+ Save that upon its branches wide
+ The earth and all the stars beside,
+ The chilly moon and the great sun,
+ The little planets, one by one,
+ Are hung like fruit to redden there
+ And ripen in the heavenly air.
+
+ And when the seeds are round and full
+ The watchful gods will come and pull
+ The ripened fruit from off the tree;
+ And then that heavenly company
+ Will bear the shining planets in
+ And garner them in a deep bin
+ And sort them out, and save the seed
+ To plant new trees in time of need.
+
+
+
+
+AFTER RAIN
+
+
+ All day the heavy skies have lowered,
+ Long beaten by autumnal rain;
+ The lilac's withered leaves lie showered
+ Where little rain-pools star the plain;
+ All things that for a season flowered
+ Sink back to earth again.
+
+ Strange, then, that with the year's decrease
+ And out of gathering dusk you rise
+ Seeking love's ultimate surcease,
+ Phantom, whose memory-haunted eyes
+ Know that there never can be peace
+ Hoped-for, till memory dies.
+
+ In vain where these dead leaves lie strown
+ Where all things, bending earthward, fail,
+ Like a young spirit newly flown,
+ Flower-fragile, blossom-like and pale,
+ You search; and must fly back, a blown
+ Rose leaf on the cold gale.
+
+ You might have rested but for this:
+ That love's intense flame burning through
+ The shuddering body with a kiss
+ Woke in the prisoned spirit, too,
+ So keen an ecstasy of bliss
+ As could, for all they made amiss,
+ Nor life nor death undo.
+
+
+
+
+_COR CORDIUM_
+
+
+ Deep in a heart, beneath o'er-hanging boughs,
+ Love built himself a house,
+ And whoso entered in, Love bade him stay,
+ Nor ever from that feast to come away
+ Dissatisfied or weary of the fare
+ Love set him there.
+
+ Forever through the groves and glades
+ Kind thoughts went softly to and fro,
+ And memories like white-footed maids
+ With gentle tread would come and go
+ Among the ever-garrulous trees.
+ And through the branches overhead
+ I know not what sweet spirits strayed,
+ Or what commandant spirit led
+ Their mazy dances, but one played
+ So deftly on a psaltery
+ That they for joy must needs keep singing;
+ All the chambers of Love's house
+ With that sweet minstrelsy were ringing.
+ Faces to the windows came,
+ Tears to happy eyelids started,
+ Feeling, as by sudden flame,
+ Their cares and their sad hearts disparted,
+ Each old clinging sorrow dead.
+
+ All who ever guested there
+ To each other, murmuring, said:
+ "In this heart breathes purer air,
+ The thoughts that move across this sky
+ Have had a more mysterious birth,
+ Are lovelier, float more statelily
+ Than clouds across the sky of earth."
+ All guests within that heart's deep wood,
+ All friends together in that house,
+ High converse held with an ærial brood,
+ With spirit-folk kept delicate carouse;
+ None ever turned ungreeted from that door.
+ (Sorrow himself was guest a weary while,)
+ But yesterday when I passed by once more,
+ Met me no welcoming smile,
+ Nor any breath the unwavering branch to stir,
+ Silent each glad ærial chorister;
+ Three drowsy poppies brooded by the wall,
+ Lonely and tall.
+
+ Then, as I leaned above their crimson bloom,
+ The flower of day grew old and witheréd,
+ Night with a sigh sat down beside her loom
+ Winding her shuttle with a silver thread.
+ Suddenly from the starlit plains of air
+ Ethereal tumult, airy tempest blew,
+ Immortal music showering everywhere,
+ Flashed to the earth in an harmonious dew,
+ Leaped jubilant from cloud to craggy cloud,
+ Binding the moon in a melodious chain,
+ Storming the troubled stars, a luminous crowd,
+ Dropping in fiery streaks to earth again.
+ From out the windows of God's house
+ Faint as a far-echoing wave,
+ The angels, bending their calm brows,
+ Song for song in answer gave;
+ And faster than a falcon flies,
+ Thronging spirits in a cluster
+ Passed before my dazzled eyes,
+ Shedding an ærial lustre,
+ Burning with translucent fire,
+ Shaking from their dewy wings
+ Wild, ineffable desire
+ Of starry and immortal things,
+ Torturing with delicious pain
+ Past telling sweet, the bewildered heart,
+ Piercing the poor mortal brain
+ With beauty, a keen fiery dart.
+ Ah! Even as an oracle
+ Whose soul a god has breathed upon,
+ The beauteousness unbearable
+ Possessed me so all strength was gone.
+ Smitten by a barbéd joy,
+ My sense with rapturous pain grew dim,
+ Joy pierced me as it would destroy.
+ Still higher rose the celestial hymn.
+ And then of all that starry throng
+ That streamed toward the upper sky,
+ One spirit darted down again,
+ And stood upon a bough near by.
+ "Even I unsealed thy sight," he said.
+ Alas, that shape I did not know,
+ For he was so transfigured,
+ So circled by the unearthly glow
+ Of his pulsating aureole;
+ I who so well the flesh had known
+ I did not know the soul.
+ With troubled eyes he bended down,
+ And all about me where I stood
+ Every blossom, every tree,
+ All the branches of that wood
+ Were trembling in their ecstasy.
+ They knew ere I had half divined.
+ But at his voice old dreams awoke
+ In dusty chambers of the mind,
+ And when again he softly spoke
+ With sudden tears mine eyes were wet.
+ And lowlier still he bent his head:
+ "Dost thou, dear friend, not know me yet?"
+ "Yes, for I know thy voice," I said.
+ "Dear Phantom, this immortal guise,
+ This disembodied self of thine,
+ Hath dazed mine unacquainted eyes.
+ Thou dweller on the steps divine,
+ Thou image of a god's desire,
+ Thou spark of the celestial flame
+ Art fashioned out of wind and fire
+ And elements without a name;
+ What sacred fingers mingled them
+ And trembled with a god's delight?
+ Thy body is a burning gem,
+ Thy limbs are chrysolite.
+ A glory hangs about thy head
+ For thou in thine immortal lot
+ In heaven's own light art garmented.
+ I know thee, yet I know thee not."
+ Then he, with shining eyes half shut,
+ Radiantly standing there:
+ "I did but change my leafy hut
+ For a mansion in the air,
+ The eerie wood, the enchanted ground,
+ The dim, bird-haunted glades we trod,
+ Grew all untuneful when I found
+ A dwelling in the heart of God.
+ I latched the gate at dawn of day,
+ I planted poppies by the door,
+ To His retreats I came away
+ And I shall wander thence no more.
+ The windy heights are all my love,
+ The spheral lights, the spheral chimes,
+ The trailing fires, the hosts that move
+ In concourse through sidereal climes;
+ I troop with the celestial choirs;
+ We have not any wish to be
+ Sad pilgrims, torn by sad desires,
+ Wayfarers of mortality.
+ The husk of flesh we have put by;
+ The dark seeds planted in the earth
+ Have blossomed in the upper sky,
+ In airy gardens have new birth."
+
+ There did he make an end, for O
+ Those spirits, singing, darted by again,
+ And at the showering sound he trembled so
+ I saw his earthly dalliance gave him pain,
+ And cried in sorrow, "O my friend, farewell!
+ Now from the luminous, paradisal bands,
+ Gabriel, Israfel, Ithuriel,
+ Beckon to you with their exulting hands."
+
+
+
+
+THE WITHERED LEAF, THE FADED FLOWER BE MINE
+
+
+ The withered leaf, the faded flower be mine,
+ The broken shrine,
+ All things that knowing beauty for a day
+ Have passed away
+ To dwell in the illimitable wood
+ Of quietude,
+ Undying, radiant, young,
+ Passed years among.
+
+ No blighting wind upon their beauty blows,
+ The altar glows
+ With flames unquenchable and bright
+ By day, by night;
+ Secure from envious time's deflowering breath
+ They know no death,
+ But silently, imperishably fair,
+ Grow lovelier there.
+
+ He who adores too much the impending hour,
+ The budding flower,
+ Who knows not with what dyes an hour that's dead
+ Is garmented,
+ Who walks with glimmering shapes companionless,
+ He cannot guess
+ With how great love and thankfulness I praise
+ The yesterdays.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+
+
+
+
+THE END OF IT
+
+
+ We met, and on the decorous drive touched hands,
+ "Good-bye; a pleasant trip to you," I said.
+ The sunlight slept upon the still uplands,
+ Your figure fading in the dusty red
+ I watched awhile, then turned with casual face
+ To where a torrent glimmered down a glade,
+ No human voice troubled the lovely place,
+ Only the fall a cruel music made.
+
+ A time I lay and marked with curious stare
+ The keen sun-lances quiver on the lawn,
+ And thought on shrines all voiceless now and bare,
+ The holy genius of their boughs withdrawn,
+ Till with hoarse cry the train that you were on
+ Stabbed the indifference of the empty air ...
+
+ Then I awoke and knew that you were gone.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW PLATONIST
+
+_Circa 1640_
+
+
+ Our loves as flowers fall to dust;
+ The noblest singing hath an end;
+ No man to his own soul may trust,
+ Nor to the kind arms of his friend;
+ Yet have I glimpsed by lonely tree,
+ Bright baths of immortality.
+
+ My faultless teachers bid me fare
+ The cypress path of blood and tears,
+ Treading the thorny wold to where
+ The painful Cross of Christ appears;
+ 'Twas on another, sunnier hill
+ I met you first, my miracle.
+
+ The painted windows burn and flame
+ Up through the music-haunted air;
+ These were my gods--and then you came
+ With flowers crowned and sun-kissed hair,
+ Making this northern river seem
+ Some laughter-girdled Grecian stream.
+
+ When the fierce foeman of our race
+ Marshals his lords of lust and pride,
+ You spring within a moment's space,
+ Full-armed and smiling to my side;
+ O golden heart! The love you gave me
+ Alone has saved and yet will save me.
+
+ Perchance we have no perfect city
+ Beyond the wrack of these our wars,
+ Till Death alone in sacred pity
+ Wash with long sleep our wounds and scars;
+ So much the more I praise in measure
+ The generous gods for you, my treasure.
+
+
+
+
+THE ROOM OVER THE RIVER
+
+
+ Good-night, my love, good-night;
+ The wan moon holds her lantern high,
+ And softly threads with nodding light
+ The violet posterns of the sky,
+ Below, the tides run swift and bright
+ Into the sea.
+
+ Odours and sounds come in to us,
+ Faint with the passion of this night,
+ One little dream hangs luminous
+ Above you in the scented light;
+ Roses and mist, stars and bright dew
+ Draw down to you.
+
+ How often in the dewy brake,
+ I've heard above the sighing weirs,
+ The night-bird singing for your sake
+ His lonely song of love and tears;
+ He too, sad heart, hath turned to rest,
+ And sleep is best.
+
+ Flower of my soul! Let us be true
+ To youth and love and all delight,
+ Clean and refreshed and one with you
+ I would be ever as to-night,
+ And heed not what the day will bring,
+ Nor anything.
+
+ And now the moon is safe away,
+ Far off her carriage lampions flare,
+ Lost in the sunken roads of day,
+ They vanish in the icy air.
+ Good-night, my love, good-night,
+ Good-night.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIDDLER
+
+
+ Once more I thought I heard him plain,
+ That unseen fiddler in the lane,
+ Under the timid twilight moon,
+ Playing his visionary strain.
+
+ No other soul was in the place
+ As up the hill I came apace;
+ Though once I heard him every day,
+ I never once have seen his face.
+
+ It was my immemorial year,
+ When rhymes came fast and blood beat clear;
+ He too, perchance, was then alive,
+ Now separate ghosts, we wander here.
+
+ Sometimes his ghostly rondelay
+ Broke on my dream at dawn of day,
+ And through my open window stole
+ The perfumed marvel of the May.
+
+ Sometimes in midnight lanes I heard
+ The twitter of a darkling bird,
+ As hidden from the ashen moon,
+ The pathos of his music stirred.
+
+ O happy time! How goodly seemed
+ The dauntless timeless dream I dreamed,
+ Those dear imaginary sins,
+ The joys that in one torrent streamed.
+
+ When moon and stars go out for aye,
+ And I am dead and castaway,
+ This autumn city I have loved
+ Will know me not, but he will stay.
+
+ In faded suburbs he will play.
+ Some other boy's brief morn away,
+ Till sapphire windows palely burn
+ Amid the undefeated gray.
+
+ And yet--sometimes I seem to know
+ I shall not 'scape his phantom bow;
+ More paramount than death or pain,
+ This ghost will follow where I go.
+
+ In some well-kept untroubled hell
+ Where frustrate souls like mine may dwell,
+ I shall look up and hear his note
+ Coming across the asphodel.
+
+ No shades will gather at his tune
+ To dance their ghostly rigadoon,
+ Only that lonely voice will cleave
+ The everlasting afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+FALSTAFF'S PAGE
+
+_To Reginald Sheffield_
+
+
+ In blaze of curls and cowslip-colored coat
+ He pranks a way before the wheezing Knight.
+ Tall Windsor shows no blossom like this wight
+ By park or sedgy pool or bearded moat;
+ A skylark burbles in that milk-white throat,
+ And I have heard him down a singing stream,
+ Ere the brute morn shattered my happy dream
+ Upon the sill, and weeping I awoke.
+
+ We had a music once; a poesie
+ Sweet as a maiden, lissome as this lad,
+ Full of rich merriment and gentle joy;
+
+ That other England lives and laughs in thee,
+ A peal of morris-music, blithe and glad,
+ Thou spray of bloom! Thou flower of a boy!
+
+
+
+
+A DULL SUNDAY
+
+(_After Debussy_)
+
+
+ It has been a long day,
+ A long, long day;
+ And now in floods of twilight,
+ In long green waves of sunset softly flowing,
+ Evening.
+ It is evening over the great towns,
+ It is evening in our hearts.
+
+ And though the last frail tendrils
+ And flowers of incense
+ Have long ago uncurled themselves around
+ The cynical Cathedral,
+ I hear the thin white voices of children,
+ Little girls and little boys,
+ Calling the name of Jesus
+ And His most Sacred Heart,
+ Singing about a kind of parish heaven,
+ A little walled city, all golden and lilac,
+ Like the one seen by François Villon's mother
+ In an old, bituminous, smoke-bitten painting
+ Of the Middle Ages.
+
+ And in this faith she wished to live and die.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Transcriber's Note: Untitled poems whose titles are omitted in the body
+of the text as originally published have had their conventional "first
+line" titles (as seen in the table of contents) added to the body of this
+transcription. They are enclosed in square brackets as an indication to
+the reader.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eight Harvard Poets, by
+E. Estlin Cummings and S. Foster Damon and J. R. Dos Passos and Robert Hillyer and R. S. Mitchell
+
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+ "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type"
+ content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<meta content="pg2html (binary v0.18)" name="generator" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of
+ Eight Harvard Poets,
+ by Various.
+</title>
+<style type="text/css">
+ body { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; }
+ p { text-indent: 1em;
+ margin-top: .75em;
+ font-size: 100%;
+ text-align: justify;
+ margin-bottom: .75em; }
+ h1 { text-align: center; }
+ h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: left; }
+ hr { width: 50%; }
+ hr.full { width: 100%; }
+ .poem { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left; }
+ .poem .stanza { margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; }
+ .poem p { margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em; }
+ .poem p.i2 { margin-left: 1.5em; }
+ .poem p.i4 { margin-left: 2.5em; }
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+ .poem p.i44 { margin-left: 22.5em; }
+ .poem p.i48 { margin-left: 24.5em; }
+ .quote { margin-left: 6%; margin-right: 6%; text-indent: 0em; font-size: 90%; }
+ .figure { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 90%; font-variant: small-caps; }
+ td { padding-left: 1em; }
+ .center { text-indent: 0; text-align: center; }
+ .tocauth { font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em; margin-left: -1em; }
+ .untitled { color: gray; background-color: inherit; }
+ a,img { border: none!important; text-decoration: none!important; }
+ span.pagenum { position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; color: gray; background-color: inherit; }
+ div.stanza * span.pagenum { display:none!important; }
+ .sc { font-variant: small-caps; }
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eight Harvard Poets, by
+E. Estlin Cummings and S. Foster Damon and J. R. Dos Passos and Robert Hillyer and R. S. Mitchell
+
+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: Eight Harvard Poets
+
+Author: E. Estlin Cummings
+ S. Foster Damon
+ J. R. Dos Passos
+ Robert Hillyer
+ R. S. Mitchell
+
+Release Date: June 24, 2011 [EBook #36508]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIGHT HARVARD POETS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Meredith Bach, David Garcia 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>
+
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="pagei" name="pagei"></a>[i]</span></p>
+
+<h1>
+ EIGHT HARVARD POETS
+</h1>
+
+<p class="center">
+<big><b>
+E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS<br />
+S. FOSTER DAMON<br />
+J. R. DOS PASSOS<br />
+ROBERT HILLYER<br />
+R. S. MITCHELL<br />
+WILLIAM A. NORRIS<br />
+DUDLEY POORE<br />
+CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+</b></big>
+</p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+
+<div class="figure">
+<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a>
+<img src="images/logo.png" width="50" height="50"
+alt="(logo)" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p class="center" style="font-size: 90%; line-height: 1.5em;">
+NEW YORK<br />
+LAURENCE J. GOMME<br />
+1917
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="pageii" name="pageii"></a>[ii]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p class="center">
+Copyright, 1917, by<br />
+LAURENCE J. GOMME
+</p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+
+<p class="center"><small>
+VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY<br />
+BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK
+</small>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="pageiii" name="pageiii"></a>[iii]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2 style="text-align: center;">
+ CONTENTS
+</h2>
+
+<table border="0" align="center" summary="Table of Contents">
+
+<tr><td></td><td width="10%">PAGE</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="tocauth">E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Thou in Whose Sword-Great Story Shine the Deeds</span></td><td align="right"> <a href="#page3">3</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">A Chorus Girl</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page4">4</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">This is the Garden</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page5">5</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">It May not Always be so</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page6">6</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Crepuscule</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page7">7</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Finis</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page8">8</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Lover Speaks</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page9">9</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Epitaph</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page10">10</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="tocauth">S. FOSTER DAMON</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Incessu Patuit Deus</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page13">13</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">You Thought I had Forgotten</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page15">15</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Venice</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page16">16</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The New Macaber</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page18">18</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">To War</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page20">20</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Calm Day, with Rollers</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page21">21</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Phonograph--Tango</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page22">22</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Decoration</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page24">24</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Threnody</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page25">25</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="tocauth">J. R. DOS PASSOS</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Bridge</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page29">29</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Salvation Army</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page30">30</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td><span class="pagenum"><a id="pageiv" name="pageiv"></a>[iv]</span>
+ <span class="sc">Incarnation</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page32">32</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Memory</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page34">34</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Saturnalia</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page37">37</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> "<span class="sc">Whan that Aprille</span>" </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page39">39</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Night Piece</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page40">40</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="tocauth">ROBERT HILLYER</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Four Sonnets from a Sonnet-Sequence</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page45">45</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">A Sea Gull</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page49">49</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Domesday</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page50">50</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">To a Passepied by Scarlatti</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page52">52</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Elegy for Antinous</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page53">53</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Song</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page54">54</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> "<span class="sc">My Peace I Leave with You</span>" </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page55">55</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Recompense</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page56">56</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="tocauth">R. S. MITCHELL</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Poppy Song</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page59">59</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Love Dream</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page62">62</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Island of Death</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page64">64</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">From the Arabian Nights</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page66">66</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Threnody</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page68">68</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Helen</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page70">70</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Largo</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page72">72</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Lazarus</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page73">73</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">A Crucifix</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page74">74</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Neith</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page75">75</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">A Farewell</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page77">77</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2">
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="pagev" name="pagev"></a>[v]</span>
+ <span class="tocauth">WILLIAM A. NORRIS</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Of Too Much Song</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page81">81</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Wherever My Dreams Go</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page82">82</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Out of the Littleness</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page83">83</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Nahant</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page84">84</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Qui Sub Luna Errant</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page85">85</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Across the Taut Strings</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page86">86</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Escape</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page87">87</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">On a Street Corner</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page88">88</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Sea-burial</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page89">89</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="tocauth">DUDLEY POORE</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">A Renaissance Picture</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page93">93</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Philosopher's Garden</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page95">95</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Tree of Stars</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page96">96</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">After Rain</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page97">97</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Cor Cordium</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page99">99</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Withered Leaf, the Faded Flower be Mine</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page105">105</a> </td></tr>
+
+<tr><td colspan="2"><span class="tocauth">CUTHBERT WRIGHT</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The End of It</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page109">109</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The New Platonist</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page110">110</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Room Over the River</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page112">112</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">The Fiddler</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page114">114</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">Falstaff's Page</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page116">116</a> </td></tr>
+<tr><td> <span class="sc">A Dull Sunday</span> </td><td align="right"> <a href="#page117">117</a> </td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="pagevi" name="pagevi"></a>[vi]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page1" name="page1"></a>[1]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0002" id="h2H_4_0002"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page2" name="page2"></a>[2]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page3" name="page3"></a>[3]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0003" id="h2H_4_0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2 class="untitled">
+ [THOU IN WHOSE SWORD-GREAT STORY SHINE THE DEEDS]
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Thou in whose sword-great story shine the deeds</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of history her heroes, sounds the tread</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of those vast armies of the marching dead,</p>
+<p class="i2"> With standards and the neighing of great steeds</p>
+<p class="i2"> Moving to war across the smiling meads;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thou by whose page we break the precious bread</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of dear communion with the past, and wed</p>
+<p class="i2"> To valor, battle with heroic breeds;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Thou, Froissart, for that thou didst love the pen</p>
+<p class="i2"> While others wrote in steel, accept all praise</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of after ages, and of hungering days</p>
+<p class="i2"> For whom the old glories move, the old trumpets cry;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Who gav'st as one of those immortal men</p>
+<p class="i2"> His life that his fair city might not die.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page4" name="page4"></a>[4]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0004" id="h2H_4_0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ A CHORUS GIRL
+</h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> When thou hast taken thy last applause, and when</p>
+<p class="i2"> The final curtain strikes the world away,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Leaving to shadowy silence and dismay</p>
+<p class="i2"> That stage which shall not know thy smile again,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lingering a little while I see thee then</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ponder the tinsel part they let thee play;</p>
+<p class="i2"> I see the red mouth tarnished, the face grey,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And smileless silent eyes of Magdalen.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The lights have laughed their last; without, the street</p>
+<p class="i2"> Darkling, awaiteth her whose feet have trod</p>
+<p class="i2"> The silly souls of men to golden dust.</p>
+<p class="i2"> She pauses, on the lintel of defeat,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Her heart breaks in a smile&mdash;and she is Lust ...</p>
+<p class="i2"> Mine also, little painted poem of God.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page5" name="page5"></a>[5]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> This is the garden: colors come and go,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Strong silent greens serenely lingering,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Absolute lights like baths of golden snow.</p>
+<p class="i2"> This is the garden: pursed lips do blow</p>
+<p class="i2"> Upon cool flutes within wide glooms, and sing,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of harps celestial to the quivering string,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Invisible faces hauntingly and slow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> This is the garden. Time shall surely reap,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And on Death's blade lie many a flower curled,</p>
+<p class="i2"> In other lands where other songs be sung;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Yet stand They here enraptured, as among</p>
+<p class="i2"> The slow deep trees perpetual of sleep</p>
+<p class="i2"> Some silver-fingered fountain steals the world.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page6" name="page6"></a>[6]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> It may not always be so; and I say</p>
+<p class="i2"> That if your lips, which I have loved, should touch</p>
+<p class="i2"> Another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch</p>
+<p class="i2"> His heart, as mine in time not far away;</p>
+<p class="i2"> If on another's face your sweet hair lay</p>
+<p class="i2"> In such a silence as I know, or such</p>
+<p class="i2"> Great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> If this should be, I say if this should be&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> You of my heart, send me a little word;</p>
+<p class="i2"> That I may go unto him, and take his hands,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Saying, Accept all happiness from me.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then shall I turn my face, and hear one bird</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sing terribly afar in the lost lands.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page7" name="page7"></a>[7]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0005" id="h2H_4_0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ CREPUSCULE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> I will wade out</p>
+<p class="i18"> till my thighs are steeped in burn-</p>
+<p class="i2"> ing flowers</p>
+<p class="i2"> I will take the sun in my mouth</p>
+<p class="i2"> and leap into the ripe air</p>
+<p class="i30"> Alive</p>
+<p class="i36"> with closed eyes</p>
+<p class="i2"> to dash against darkness</p>
+<p class="i28"> in the sleeping curves of my</p>
+<p class="i2"> body</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery</p>
+<p class="i2"> with chasteness of sea-girls</p>
+<p class="i30"> Will I complete the mystery</p>
+<p class="i2"> of my flesh</p>
+<p class="i2"> I will rise</p>
+<p class="i14"> After a thousand years</p>
+<p class="i2"> lipping</p>
+<p class="i2"> flowers</p>
+<p class="i10"> And set my teeth in the silver of the moon</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page8" name="page8"></a>[8]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0006" id="h2H_4_0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ FINIS
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Over silent waters</p>
+<p class="i22"> day descending</p>
+<p class="i36"> night ascending</p>
+<p class="i2"> floods the gentle glory of the sunset</p>
+<p class="i2"> In a golden greeting</p>
+<p class="i26"> splendidly to westward</p>
+<p class="i2"> as pale twilight</p>
+<p class="i20"> trem-</p>
+<p class="i26"> bles</p>
+<p class="i30"> into</p>
+<p class="i36"> Darkness</p>
+<p class="i2"> comes the last light's gracious exhortation</p>
+<p class="i40"> Lifting up to peace</p>
+<p class="i2"> so when life shall falter</p>
+<p class="i30"> standing on the shores of the</p>
+<p class="i2"> eternal</p>
+<p class="i2"> god</p>
+<p class="i8"> May I behold my sunset</p>
+<p class="i2"> Flooding</p>
+<p class="i10"> over silent waters</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page9" name="page9"></a>[9]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0007" id="h2H_4_0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE LOVER SPEAKS
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Your little voice</p>
+<p class="i20"> Over the wires came leaping</p>
+<p class="i2"> and I felt suddenly</p>
+<p class="i2"> dizzy</p>
+<p class="i10"> With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers</p>
+<p class="i2"> wee skipping high-heeled flames</p>
+<p class="i2"> courtesied before my eyes</p>
+<p class="i28"> or twinkling over to my side</p>
+<p class="i2"> Looked up</p>
+<p class="i2"> with impertinently exquisite faces</p>
+<p class="i2"> floating hands were laid upon me</p>
+<p class="i2"> I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing</p>
+<p class="i2"> up</p>
+<p class="i2"> Up</p>
+<p class="i2"> with the pale important</p>
+<p class="i26"> stars and the Humorous</p>
+<p class="i48"> moon</p>
+<p class="i2"> dear girl</p>
+<p class="i2"> How I was crazy how I cried when I heard</p>
+<p class="i44"> over time</p>
+<p class="i2"> and tide and death</p>
+<p class="i2"> leaping</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sweetly</p>
+<p class="i6"> your voice</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page10" name="page10"></a>[10]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0008" id="h2H_4_0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ EPITAPH
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Tumbling-hair</p>
+<p class="i14"> picker of buttercups</p>
+<p class="i36"> violets</p>
+<p class="i2"> dandelions</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the big bullying daisies</p>
+<p class="i30"> through the field wonderful</p>
+<p class="i2"> with eyes a little sorry</p>
+<p class="i2"> Another comes</p>
+<p class="i14"> also picking flowers</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page11" name="page11"></a>[11]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0009" id="h2H_4_0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ S. FOSTER DAMON
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page12" name="page12"></a>[12]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page13" name="page13"></a>[13]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0010" id="h2H_4_0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ INCESSU PATUIT DEUS
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The little clattering stones along the street</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dance with each other round my swimming feet;</p>
+<p class="i2"> The street itself, as in some crazy dream,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Streaks past, a half-perceived material stream.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Brighter than early dawn's most brilliant dye</p>
+<p class="i2"> Are blown clear bands of color through the sky,</p>
+<p class="i2"> That swirl and sweep and meet, to break and foam</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like rainbow veils upon a bubble's dome.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Yours are the songs that burst about my ears,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or blow away as many-colored spheres.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> You are the star that made the skies all bright,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Yet tore itself away in flaming flight;</p>
+<p class="i2"> You are the tree that suddenly awoke;</p>
+<p class="i2"> You are the rose that came to life and spoke....</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Guided by you, how we might stroll towards death,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Our only music one another's breath,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Through gardens intimate with hollyhocks,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where silent poppies burn between the rocks,</p>
+<p class="i2"> By pools where birches bend to confidants</p>
+<p class="i2"> Above green waters scummed with lily-plants.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page14" name="page14"></a>[14]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> There we might wander, you and I alone,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Through gardens filled with marble seats moss-grown,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And fountains&mdash;water-threads that winds disperse&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> While in the spray the birds sit and converse.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And when the fireflies mix their circling glow</p>
+<p class="i2"> Through the dark plants, then gently might I know</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your lips, light as the wings of the dragon-flies....</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> &mdash;Merely dreams, fluttering in my eyes....</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page15" name="page15"></a>[15]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0010a" id="h2H_4_0010a"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2 class="untitled">
+[YOU THOUGHT I HAD FORGOTTEN]
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> You thought I had forgotten. Well, I had!</p>
+<p class="i2"> (Although I never guessed I could forget</p>
+<p class="i2"> Those few great moments when we both went mad.)</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The other day at someone's tea we met,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Smiling gayly, bowed, and went our several ways,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Complacent with successful coldness.&mdash;Yet</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Suddenly I was back in the old days</p>
+<p class="i2"> Before you felt we ought to drift apart.</p>
+<p class="i2"> It was some trick&mdash;the way your eyebrows raise,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Your hands&mdash;some vivid trifle. With a start</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then I remembered how I lived alone,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Writing bad poems and eating out my heart</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> All for your beauty.&mdash;How the time has flown!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page16" name="page16"></a>[16]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0011" id="h2H_4_0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ VENICE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In a sunset glowing of crimson and gold,</p>
+<p class="i2"> She lies, the glory of the world,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A beached king's galley, whose sails are furled,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Who is hung with tapestries rich and old.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Beautiful as a woman is she,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A woman whose autumn of life is here,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Proud and calm at the end of the year</p>
+<p class="i2"> With the grace that now is majesty.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The sleeping waters bathe her sides,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The warm, blue streams of the Adrian Sea;</p>
+<p class="i2"> She dreams and drowses languorously,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Swayed in the swaying of the tides.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> She is a goddess left for us,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Veiled with the softening veils of time;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Her blue-veined breasts are now sublime,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Her moulded torso glorious.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The pity that we must come and go&mdash;!</p>
+<p class="i2"> While the old gold and the marble stays,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Forever gleaming its soft strong blaze,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Calm in the early evening glow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page17" name="page17"></a>[17]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> And still the sensitive silhouettes</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of the gondolas pass and leave no track,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Light on the tides as lilies, and black</p>
+<p class="i2"> In the rippling waters of long sunsets.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page18" name="page18"></a>[18]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0012" id="h2H_4_0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE NEW MACABER
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The pleasant graveyard of my soul</p>
+<p class="i2"> With sentimental cypress trees</p>
+<p class="i2"> And flowers is filled, that I may stroll</p>
+<p class="i2"> In meditation, at my ease.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The little marble stones are lost</p>
+<p class="i2"> In flowers surging from the dead;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Nor is there any mournful ghost</p>
+<p class="i2"> To wail until the night is sped.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And while night rustles through the trees,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dragging the stars along, I know</p>
+<p class="i2"> The moon is rising on the breeze,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Quivering as in a river's flow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And ah! that moon of silver sheen!</p>
+<p class="i2"> It is my heart hung in the sky;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And no clouds ever float between</p>
+<p class="i2"> The grave-flowers and my heart on high.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> I do not read upon each stone</p>
+<p class="i2"> The name that once was carven there;</p>
+<p class="i2"> I merely note new blossoms blown</p>
+<p class="i2"> And breathe the perfume of the air.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page19" name="page19"></a>[19]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Thus walk I through my wonderland</p>
+<p class="i2"> While all the evening is atune,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beneath the cypress trees that stand</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like candles to the barren moon.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page20" name="page20"></a>[20]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0013" id="h2H_4_0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ TO WAR
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The music beats, up the chasmed street,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then flares from around the curve;</p>
+<p class="i2"> The cheers break out from the waving crowd:</p>
+<p class="i2"> &mdash;Our soldiers march, superb!</p>
+<p class="i8"> Over the track-lined city street</p>
+<p class="i6"> The young men, the grinning men, pass.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Last night they danced to that very tune;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Today they march away;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tomorrow, perhaps no band at all,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or the band beside the grave.</p>
+<p class="i8"> Above, in the long blue strip of sky,</p>
+<p class="i6"> The whirling pigeons, the thoughtless pigeons, pass.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Another band beats down the street;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Contending rhythms clash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> New melodies win place, then fade,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the flashing legs move past.</p>
+<p class="i8"> Down the cheering, grey-paved street</p>
+<p class="i6"> The fringed flags, the erect flags, pass.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page21" name="page21"></a>[21]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0014" id="h2H_4_0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ CALM DAY, WITH ROLLERS
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Always the ships that move in mystery, on the dim horizon,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shadow-filled sails of dreams, sliding over the blue-grey ocean,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Far from the rock-edged shore where willow-green waves are rushing,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And white foam-people leap, to stand erect for the moment.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Ho! ye sails that seem to wander in dream-filled meadows,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Say, is the shore where I stand the only field of struggle,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or are ye hit and battered out there by waves and wind-gusts</p>
+<p class="i2"> As ye tack over a clashing sea of watery echoes?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page22" name="page22"></a>[22]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0015" id="h2H_4_0015"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ PHONOGRAPH&mdash;TANGO
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Old dances are simplified of their yearning, bleached by Time.</p>
+<p class="i14"> Yet from one black disc</p>
+<p class="i2"> we tasted again the bite of crude Spanish passion.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> ... He had got into her courtyard.</p>
+<p class="i2"> She was alone that night.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Through the black night-rain, he sang to her window bars:</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> <i>Love me, love&mdash;ah, love me!</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>If you will not, I can follow</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>Into the highest of mountains;</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>And there, in the wooden cabin,</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>I will strangle you for your lover.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> &mdash;That was but rustling of dripping plants in the dark.</p>
+<p class="i2"> More tightly under his cloak, he clasped his guitar.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> <i>Love, ah-h! love me, love me!</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>If you will do this, I can buy</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>A fringed silk scarf of yellow,</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>A high comb carved of tortoise;</i></p>
+<p class="i10"> <i>Then we will dance in the Plaza.</i></p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page23" name="page23"></a>[23]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> She was alone that night.</p>
+<p class="i2"> He had broken into her courtyard.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Above the gurgling gutters</p>
+<p class="i2"> he heard&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> surely&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> a door unchained?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The passage was black; but he risked it&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> death in the darkness&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> or her hot arms&mdash;(<i>love&mdash;love me ah-h-h!</i>)</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> "A good old tune," she murmured</p>
+<p class="i2"> &mdash;and I found we were dancing.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page24" name="page24"></a>[24]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0016" id="h2H_4_0016"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ DECORATION
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> A little pagan child-god plays</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beyond the far horizon haze,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And underneath the twilight trees</p>
+<p class="i2"> He blows a bubble to the breeze,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Which is borne upward in the night</p>
+<p class="i2"> And makes the heavens shine with light.</p>
+<p class="i2"> But soon it sinks to earth again,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And, hitting hills, it bursts! And then</p>
+<p class="i2"> With foam the skies are splashed and sprayed;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And that's how all the stars are made.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page25" name="page25"></a>[25]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0017" id="h2H_4_0017"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THRENODY
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> She is lain with high things and with low.</p>
+<p class="i6"> She lies</p>
+<p class="i6"> With shut eyes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Rocked in the eternal flow</p>
+<p class="i4"> Of silence evermore.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Desperately immortal, she;</p>
+<p class="i6"> She stands</p>
+<p class="i6"> With wide hands</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dim through the veil of eternity,</p>
+<p class="i4"> Behind the supreme door.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page26" name="page26"></a>[26]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page27" name="page27"></a>[27]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0018" id="h2H_4_0018"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ J. R. DOS PASSOS
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page28" name="page28"></a>[28]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page29" name="page29"></a>[29]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0019" id="h2H_4_0019"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE BRIDGE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The lonely bridge cuts dark across the marsh</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whose long pools glow with the light</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of a flaring summer sunset.</p>
+<p class="i2"> At this end limp bushes overhang,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Palely reflected in the amber-colored water;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Among them a constant banjo-twanging of frogs,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And shrilling of toads and of insects</p>
+<p class="i2"> Rises and falls in chorus rhythmic and stirring.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Dark, with crumbling railing and planks,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The bridge leads into the sunset.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Across it many lonely figures,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Their eyes a-flare with the sunset,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Their faces glowing with its colors,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tramp past me through the evening.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> I am tired of sitting quiet</p>
+<p class="i2"> Among the bushes of the shore,</p>
+<p class="i2"> While the dark bridge stretches onward,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the long pools gleam with light;</p>
+<p class="i2"> I am tired of the shrilling of insects</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the croaking of frogs in the rushes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> For the wild rice in the marsh-pools</p>
+<p class="i2"> Waves its beckoning streamers in the wind,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the red sky-glory fades.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page30" name="page30"></a>[30]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0020" id="h2H_4_0020"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ SALVATION ARMY
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> A drum pounds out the hymn,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Loud with gaudy angels, tinsel cherubim,</p>
+<p class="i2"> To drown the fanfare of the street,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And with exultant lilting beat,</p>
+<p class="i2"> To mingle the endless rumble of carts,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The scrape of feet, the noise of marts</p>
+<p class="i2"> And dinning market stalls, where women shout</p>
+<p class="i2"> Their wares, and meat hangs out&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Grotesque, distorted by the gas flare's light&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Into one sacred rhythm for the Devil's spite.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> A woman's thin, raucous voice</p>
+<p class="i2"> Carries the tune, bids men rejoice,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Bathe in God's mercy,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Draw near and learn salvation, see</p>
+<p class="i2"> With their own eyes the mystery.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Cymbals, at the hands of a tired girl,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Slim wisp amid the swirl</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of crowded streets, take up the tune,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Monotonously importune.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Faces are wan in the arc-light's livid glare;</p>
+<p class="i2"> A wind gust carries the band's flare</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of song, in noisy eddies echoing,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Round lonely black street-corners,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page31" name="page31"></a>[31]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Till, with distance dimming,</p>
+<p class="i2"> It fades away,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Among the silent, dark array</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of city houses where no soul stirs.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The crowd thins, the players are alone;</p>
+<p class="i2"> In their faith's raucous monotone,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Loud with gaudy angels, tinsel cherubim,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A drum pounds out the hymn.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page32" name="page32"></a>[32]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0021" id="h2H_4_0021"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ INCARNATION
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Incessantly the long rain falls,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Slanting on black walls,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Which glisten gold where a street lamp shines.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In a shop-window, spangled in long lines,</p>
+<p class="i2"> By rain-drops all a-glow,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An Italian woman's face</p>
+<p class="i2"> Flames into my soul as I go</p>
+<p class="i2"> Hastily by in the turbulent darkness;&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> An oval olive face,</p>
+<p class="i2"> With the sweetly sullen grace</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of the Virgin when first she sees,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Amid her garden's silver lilies,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The white-robed angel gleam,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And softly, as by a sultry dream,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Feels all her soul subdued unto the fire</p>
+<p class="i2"> And radiance of her ecstasy.</p>
+<p class="i2"> So in some picture, on which as on a lyre,</p>
+<p class="i2"> An old Italian painter laboriously has played</p>
+<p class="i2"> His soul away, his love, all his desire</p>
+<p class="i2"> For fragrant things afar from earth,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shines the Madonna, as with a veil overlaid</p>
+<p class="i2"> By incense-smoke and dust age-old,</p>
+<p class="i2"> At whose feet, in time of dearth</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page33" name="page33"></a>[33]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Or need, a myriad men have laid</p>
+<p class="i2"> Their sorrows and arisen bold.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Incessantly the long rain falls,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Slanting on black walls.</p>
+<p class="i2"> But through the dark interminable streets,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Along pavements where rain beats</p>
+<p class="i2"> Its sharp tattoo, and gas-lamps shine,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Greenish gold in the solitude,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The vision flames through my mood</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of that Italian woman's face,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Through the dripping window-pane.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page34" name="page34"></a>[34]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0022" id="h2H_4_0022"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ MEMORY
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Between rounded hills,</p>
+<p class="i2"> White with patches of buckwheat, whose fragrance fills</p>
+<p class="i2"> The little breeze that makes the birch-leaves quiver,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beside a rollicking swift river,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Light green in the deeps,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like your eyes in sunshine,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Winds the canal,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lazy and brown as a water-snake,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Full of dazzle and sheen where the breeze sweeps</p>
+<p class="i2"> The water with gossamer garments, that shake</p>
+<p class="i2"> The reeds standing sentinel,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the marginal line</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of birches and willows.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Our little steamer pulls its way</p>
+<p class="i2"> With jingle of bells and panting throb</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of old engines.</p>
+<p class="i2"> In stiff array</p>
+<p class="i2"> The water-reeds wave,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And solemnly sway</p>
+<p class="i2"> To the wash and swell of our passing.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Among the reeds the ripples sob,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And die away,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page35" name="page35"></a>[35]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> 'Till the canal is still again, save</p>
+<p class="i2"> For a kingfisher's flashing</p>
+<p class="i2"> Across the noon shimmer.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> I stood beside you in the bow,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Watched the sunlight lose itself among your hair,</p>
+<p class="i2"> That the breeze tugged at.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Bright as the shattered sun-rays, where the prow</p>
+<p class="i2"> Cut the still water,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The warm light caught and tangled there,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Red gold amid your hair.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> You were very slim in your blue serge dress....</p>
+<p class="i2"> We talked of meaningless things, education,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Agreed that unless,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Something were changed disaster would come to the nation.</p>
+<p class="i2"> You smiled when I pointed where</p>
+<p class="i2"> A group of birches shivered in the green wood-shadow,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Up to their knees in water, white and fair</p>
+<p class="i2"> As dryads bathing.</p>
+<p class="i2"> A row</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of flat white houses and a wharf</p>
+<p class="i2"> Glided in sight.</p>
+<p class="i2"> The hoarse whistle shrieked for a landing;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Bells jangled.... You were standing</p>
+<p class="i2"> A slim blue figure amid the wharf's crowd;</p>
+<p class="i2"> The little steamer creaked against the side, loud</p>
+<p class="i2"> Screamed the whistle again....</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page36" name="page36"></a>[36]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Monotonously the solemn reeds</p>
+<p class="i2"> Waved to our passing;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ahead the canal shimmered, blotched green by the water-weeds.</p>
+<p class="i2"> With a grinding swing</p>
+<p class="i2"> And see-saw of sound,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The steamer slunk down the canal.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> I never even knew your name....</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> That night from a dingy hotel room,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I saw the moon, like a golden gong,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Redly loom</p>
+<p class="i2"> Across the lake; like a golden gong</p>
+<p class="i2"> In a temple, which a priest ere long</p>
+<p class="i2"> Will strike into throbbing song,</p>
+<p class="i2"> To wake some silent twinkling city to prayer.</p>
+<p class="i2"> The lake waves were flakes of red gold,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Burnished to copper,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Gold, red as the tangled gleam</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of sunlight in your hair.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page37" name="page37"></a>[37]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0023" id="h2H_4_0023"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ SATURNALIA
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> In earth's womb the old gods stir,</p>
+<p class="i10"> Fierce chthonian dieties of old time.</p>
+<p class="i10"> With cymbals and rattle of castanets,</p>
+<p class="i10"> And shriek of slug-horns, the North Wind</p>
+<p class="i10"> Bows the oak and the moaning fir,</p>
+<p class="i2"> On russet hills and by roadsides stiff with rime.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> In nature, dead, the life gods stir,</p>
+<p class="i10"> From Rhadamanthus and the Isles,</p>
+<p class="i10"> Where Saturn rules the Age of Gold,</p>
+<p class="i10"> Come old, old ghosts of bygone gods;</p>
+<p class="i10"> While dim mists earth's outlines blur,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And drip all night from lichen-greened roof-tiles.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> In men's hearts the mad gods rise</p>
+<p class="i10"> And fill the streets with revelling,</p>
+<p class="i10"> With torchlight that glances on frozen pools,</p>
+<p class="i10"> With tapers starring the thick-fogged night,</p>
+<p class="i10"> A-dance, like strayed fireflies,</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'Mid dim mad throngs who Saturn's orisons sing.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> In driven clouds the old gods come,</p>
+<p class="i10"> When fogs the face of Apollo have veiled;</p>
+<p class="i10"> A fear of things, unhallowed, strange,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page38" name="page38"></a>[38]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i10"> And a fierce free joy flares in the land.</p>
+<p class="i10"> Men mutter runes in language dead,</p>
+<p class="i10"> By night, with rumbling drum,</p>
+<p class="i2"> In quaking groves where the woodland spirits are hailed.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10"> To earth's brood of souls of old,</p>
+<p class="i10"> With covered heads and aspen wands,</p>
+<p class="i10"> Mist-shrouded priests do ancient rites;</p>
+<p class="i10"> The black ram's fleece is stained with blood,</p>
+<p class="i10"> That steams, dull red on the frozen ground;</p>
+<p class="i10"> And pale votaries shiver with the cold,</p>
+<p class="i2"> That numbs the earth, and etches patterned mirrors on the ponds.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page39" name="page39"></a>[39]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0024" id="h2H_4_0024"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ "WHAN THAT APRILLE ..."
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Is it the song of a meadow lark</p>
+<p class="i2"> Off the brown, sere salt marshes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or the eager patches in dooryards</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of yellow and pale lilac crocuses;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or else the suburban street golden with sunlight,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the bare branches of elm trees</p>
+<p class="i2"> Twined in the delicate sky?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or is it the merry piping</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of a distant hurdy-gurdy?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> That makes me so weary and faint with desire</p>
+<p class="i2"> For strange lands and new scents;</p>
+<p class="i2"> For the rough-rhythmed clank</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of train couplings at night,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the stormy, gay-tinted sunrises</p>
+<p class="i2"> That shade with purple the contours</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of far-off, unfamiliar hills.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page40" name="page40"></a>[40]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0025" id="h2H_4_0025"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ NIGHT PIECE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> A silver web has the moon spun,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A silver web upon all the sky,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where the frail stars quiver, every one</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like tangled gnats that hum and die.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The moon has tangled the dull night</p>
+<p class="i2"> In her silver skein and set alight</p>
+<p class="i2"> Each dew-damp branch with milky flame.</p>
+<p class="i2"> And huge the moon broods on the night.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> My soul is caught in the web of the moon,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like a shrilling gnat in a spider's web.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Importunate memories shrill in my ears</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like the gnats that die in the spider web.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Lovely as death, in the moon's shroud,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Were town streets, grey houses, dim,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Full of strange peace in the silent night.</p>
+<p class="i2"> As we walked our footsteps clattered loud.</p>
+<p class="i2"> We felt the night as a troubled song ...</p>
+<p class="i2"> Oh, the triumphing sense of life a-throb.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Behind those walls, in those dark streets,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like the sound of a river, swift, unseen,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Flowing in darkness. Oh, the hoarse</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page41" name="page41"></a>[41]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Half-heard murmur swirling beneath</p>
+<p class="i2"> The snowy beauty of moonlight....</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And that other night,</p>
+<p class="i2"> When the river rippled with faint spears</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of street lights vaguely reflected. Grey</p>
+<p class="i2"> The evening, like an opal; low,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A grey moon shrouded in sea fog:</p>
+<p class="i2"> Air pregnant with spring; rasp of my steps</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beside the lapping water; within</p>
+<p class="i2"> The dark. Down the worn out years a sob</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of broken loves; old pain</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of dead farewells; and one face</p>
+<p class="i2"> Fading into grey....</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> A silver web has the moon spun,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A silver web over all the sky.</p>
+<p class="i2"> In her flooding glory, one by one,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like gnats in a web the stars die.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page42" name="page42"></a>[42]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page43" name="page43"></a>[43]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0026" id="h2H_4_0026"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ ROBERT HILLYER
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page44" name="page44"></a>[44]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page45" name="page45"></a>[45]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0027" id="h2H_4_0027"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ FOUR SONNETS FROM A SONNET-SEQUENCE
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+I
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Quickly and pleasantly the seasons blow</p>
+<p class="i2"> Over the meadows of eternity,</p>
+<p class="i2"> As wave on wave the pulsings of the sea</p>
+<p class="i2"> Merge and are lost, each in the other's flow.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Time is no lover; it is only he</p>
+<p class="i2"> That is the one unconquerable foe,</p>
+<p class="i2"> He is the sudden tempest none can know,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Winged with swift winds the none may hope to flee.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Fair child of loveliness, these endless fears</p>
+<p class="i2"> Are nought to us; let us be gods of stone,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And set our images beyond the years</p>
+<p class="i2"> On some high mount where we can be alone.</p>
+<p class="i2"> And thou shalt ever be as now thou art,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And I shall watch thee with untroubled heart.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page46" name="page46"></a>[46]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+II
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Then judge me as thou wilt, I cannot flee,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I cannot turn away from thee forever,</p>
+<p class="i2"> For there are bonds that wisdom cannot sever</p>
+<p class="i2"> And slaves with souls far freer than the free.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Such strong desires the universal Giver</p>
+<p class="i2"> With unknown plan has buried deep in me</p>
+<p class="i2"> That the exquisite joy of watching thee</p>
+<p class="i2"> Has dominated all my life's endeavor.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Thou weariest of having me so near,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I feel the scorn thou hast within thy heart,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And yet thy face has never seemed so dear</p>
+<p class="i2"> As now, when I am minded to depart.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Though thou shouldst drive me hence, I love thee so</p>
+<p class="i2"> That I would watch thee when thou dost not know.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page47" name="page47"></a>[47]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+III
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Fly, joyous wind, through all the wakened earth</p>
+<p class="i2"> Now when the portals of the dawn outpour</p>
+<p class="i2"> A myriad wonders from the radiant store</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of spring's deep passion and loud-ringing mirth.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Cry to the world that I despair no more,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Heart greets my heart and hope has proved its worth;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Fly where the legions of the sun have birth,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Chant everywhere and everywhere adore.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Circle the basking hills in fragrant flight,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shout Rapture! Rapture! if sweet sorrow passes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And whisper low in intimate delight</p>
+<p class="i2"> My love-song to the undulating grasses.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Grief is no more, love rises with the spring,</p>
+<p class="i2"> O fly, free wind, and Rapture! Rapture! sing.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page48" name="page48"></a>[48]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+IV
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Long after both of us are scattered dust</p>
+<p class="i2"> And some strange souls perchance shall read of thee,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Finding the yearnings that have crushed from me</p>
+<p class="i2"> These poor confessions of my love and trust,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I know how misinterpreted will be</p>
+<p class="i2"> These lines, for men will laugh, or more unjust,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thinking not once of love, but only lust,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Will stain the vesture of our memory.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And yet a few there may be who will feel</p>
+<p class="i2"> My deep devotion and my true desires,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And know that these unhappy words reveal</p>
+<p class="i2"> Only new images in changeless fires;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And they perchance will linger with a sigh</p>
+<p class="i2"> To think that beauty such as thine must die.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page49" name="page49"></a>[49]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0028" id="h2H_4_0028"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ A SEA GULL
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Grey wings, O grey wings against a cloud,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Over the rough waves flashing,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whose was the scream, startling and loud,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Keen through the skies,&mdash;was it thine,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Over the moaning wind and the whine</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of the wide seas dashing?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whose was the scream that I heard</p>
+<p class="i2"> In the midst of the hurrying air?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Was it thine, lost bird,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or the voice of an old despair</p>
+<p class="i2"> Chanting from years long dead,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Inexorable spirit flying</p>
+<p class="i2"> On tempest wings that passed and fled</p>
+<p class="i2"> Through the storm crying?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page50" name="page50"></a>[50]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0029" id="h2H_4_0029"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ DOMESDAY
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The garlands and the songs of May</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shall welcome in the Judgment Day;</p>
+<p class="i2"> About the basking country-side</p>
+<p class="i2"> Blossom the souls of them that died.</p>
+<p class="i2"> O Dead awake! Arise in bloom</p>
+<p class="i2"> Upon the joyous dawn of doom.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> They rise up from the bleeding earth</p>
+<p class="i2"> In gracious legions of re-birth,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Each as a flower or a tree</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of verdant immortality.</p>
+<p class="i2"> And hosts of glad-voiced angels sing</p>
+<p class="i2"> In the rippling groves of spring.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> From the grave of youth there grows</p>
+<p class="i2"> A passionately-petaled rose,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where the virgin whitely lies</p>
+<p class="i2"> A lily fair as Paradise.</p>
+<p class="i2"> And in that old oak's leafy glee</p>
+<p class="i2"> Some gouty sire makes sport of me.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> O Dead of yore and yesterday</p>
+<p class="i2"> All hail the resurrecting May!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page51" name="page51"></a>[51]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Beside you in the flowering grass</p>
+<p class="i2"> The feet of youth and love shall pass,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And we that greet you with a smile</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shall join you in a little while.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page52" name="page52"></a>[52]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0030" id="h2H_4_0030"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ TO A PASSEPIED BY SCARLATTI
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Strange little tune so thin and rare</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like scents of roses of long ago,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Quavering lightly upon the strings</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of a violin, and dying there</p>
+<p class="i2"> With a dancing flutter of delicate wings;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thy courtly joy and thy gentle woe,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thy gracious gladness and plaintive fears</p>
+<p class="i2"> Are lost in the clamorous age we know,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And pale like a moon in the lurid day;</p>
+<p class="i2"> A phantom of music, strangely fled</p>
+<p class="i2"> From the princely halls of the quiet dead,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Down the long lanes of the vanished years</p>
+<p class="i2"> Echoing frailly and far away.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page53" name="page53"></a>[53]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0031" id="h2H_4_0031"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ ELEGY FOR ANTINOUS
+</h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Come, let us hasten hence and weep no more,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The sinking sea flows on its tranquil ways,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Night looms serenely at the eastern door</p>
+<p class="i2"> And trails the last cloud into lifeless haze.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Antinous is dead, we kneel before</p>
+<p class="i2"> The portals of our past in vain, nor raise</p>
+<p class="i2"> The laughing phantoms of our yesterdays</p>
+<p class="i2"> Upon this desolate and empty shore.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Now deepening pools of shadow overflow</p>
+<p class="i2"> Into the sea of dark; a far-off bell</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sobs with a sweet vibration long and slow</p>
+<p class="i2"> A last farewell, forevermore, farewell;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And will He wake and hear? We cannot tell;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And will He answer? Ah, we do not know.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page54" name="page54"></a>[54]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0032" id="h2H_4_0032"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ SONG
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> O crimson rose, O crimson rose,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Crushed lightly in two little hands;</p>
+<p class="i2"> A child's soft kiss was in your heart,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A child's warm breath was in your soul.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The child is gone, O crimson rose,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And stained and hardened are the hands,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And who shall find your golden heart</p>
+<p class="i2"> And who shall kiss your withered soul?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Happy are you, O crimson rose,</p>
+<p class="i2"> But I have stains upon my hands;</p>
+<p class="i2"> You died with kisses in your heart,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I live with sorrow in my soul.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page55" name="page55"></a>[55]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0033" id="h2H_4_0033"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ "MY PEACE I LEAVE WITH YOU"
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> He pondered long, and watched the darkening space</p>
+<p class="i2"> Close the red portals whence the hours had run,</p>
+<p class="i2"> As like young wistful angels, one by one,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The stars cast timid flowers about His face.</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Yea, now another scarlet day is done!"</p>
+<p class="i2"> He cried in anguish, and with sudden grace</p>
+<p class="i2"> Stretched forth His arms, as though He would erase</p>
+<p class="i2"> The few, dim embers of the scattered sun.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> "The scarlet day is done, and soon the light</p>
+<p class="i2"> Will wake again my desecrated skies.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Oh, that another dawn might never rise!&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> My foolish children!" Through the vast of night</p>
+<p class="i2"> The young stars shivered in a silver horde</p>
+<p class="i2"> Before the Infinite Sorrow of their Lord.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page56" name="page56"></a>[56]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0034" id="h2H_4_0034"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE RECOMPENSE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> When the last song is sung, and the last spark</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of light dies out forever, and the dark,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The voiceless dark eternal shrouds the earth;</p>
+<p class="i2"> When the last cries of pain and shouts of mirth</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sink in the desolate silences of space;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where then shall flower the beauty of your face,</p>
+<p class="i2"> O Love the laughing, Youth the rose-in-hand,</p>
+<p class="i2"> In what unknown and undiscovered land</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shall flower then the beauty of your face?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> I know not but I know that all returns</p>
+<p class="i2"> At last unchanged, and to the heart that yearns</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shall be repaid all loneliness and loss.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sometime with shadowy sails shall fly across</p>
+<p class="i2"> The shoreless ocean of infinity</p>
+<p class="i2"> A ship from out the past, and the great sea</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of life shall bear you from the strange worlds over</p>
+<p class="i2"> The waves, and back again to the old lover.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Yes, in some future far beyond surmise</p>
+<p class="i2"> You will dream here with half-remembering eyes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And I shall write these words, content awhile</p>
+<p class="i2"> In the slow round of time to see you smile.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page57" name="page57"></a>[57]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0035" id="h2H_4_0035"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ R. S. MITCHELL
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page58" name="page58"></a>[58]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page59" name="page59"></a>[59]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0036" id="h2H_4_0036"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ POPPY SONG
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+I
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Footsteps soft as fall the rose's</p>
+<p class="i2"> Petals on a dewy lawn,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shaken when the wind uncloses</p>
+<p class="i2"> Golden gateways for the dawn;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Laughter light as is the swallows'</p>
+<p class="i2"> Chatter in the evening sky,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wafted upward from the hollows</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where the limpid waters lie;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Weeping faint as is the willow's</p>
+<p class="i2"> By the margin of the lake,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Trembling into tiny billows</p>
+<p class="i2"> That the silent teardrops make;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Phantoms fitful and uncertain</p>
+<p class="i2"> As the pearly autumn rain,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sweeping on in cloudy curtain</p>
+<p class="i2"> Down the wide way of the plain.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page60" name="page60"></a>[60]</span></p>
+
+<h3>
+II
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Oh, unhappy now to waken</p>
+<p class="i2"> When the dream had scarce begun!</p>
+<p class="i2"> Out of gentle twilight taken</p>
+<p class="i2"> Into realms of burning sun:</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Oh, unhappy now to find me</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lost 'neath heavens hot with noon;</p>
+<p class="i2"> All that fairy land behind me;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Poppy fields and rising moon!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Drawbridge and portcullis screeching,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Bugles braying soon and late;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Who are they that come beseeching,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Calling at my castle gate?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Drive them hence, for they encumber</p>
+<p class="i2"> Days and nights with waking pain;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tell them that I lie and slumber</p>
+<p class="i2"> Under poppies, wet with rain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Who art thou that bendest praying</p>
+<p class="i2"> Over me with clasped palms;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dim through surging darkness, saying</p>
+<p class="i2"> Words of prayer and murmured psalms?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page61" name="page61"></a>[61]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Who art thou that kneelest weeping</p>
+<p class="i2"> By the border of my bed?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Cease thou, for I was but sleeping&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dreaming, only, and not dead!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<h3>
+III
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Phantoms flitting and uncertain</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sweeping round the endless plain;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Autumn twilight's dusky curtain,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Drowsy poppies, drenched with rain.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page62" name="page62"></a>[62]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0037" id="h2H_4_0037"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ LOVE DREAM
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Strange that on warp and woof of dreams</p>
+<p class="i6"> Fancy should weave the web of truth,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And yet this fairy figment seems</p>
+<p class="i6"> Part of a half-forgotten youth</p>
+<p class="i2"> Stolen from days I thought were sped</p>
+<p class="i2"> Out of the world beyond the dead.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Smiled she not when at the edge</p>
+<p class="i6"> Of evening we walked alone</p>
+<p class="i2"> Plucking spring's blossoms from the hedge</p>
+<p class="i6"> That she might wear them as her own,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or do I hold a hopeless tryst</p>
+<p class="i2"> Here with a shadow, made of mist?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Now as will crumpled rose leaves, pent</p>
+<p class="i6"> By fingers we can never know,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Rouse with the richness of their scent,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Thoughts of a summer long ago,</p>
+<p class="i2"> All the expanse of land and sea</p>
+<p class="i2"> Speaks with a thousand tongues to me.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> 'Twas from coast we watched slow form,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Out of the frosty ocean's breath,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page63" name="page63"></a>[63]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> The blue-gray ramparts of the storm</p>
+<p class="i6"> Flashing with signal fires of death,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whilst with a murmur, far and wide,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Swept in the low wind with the tide.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Then, at last, when lips were dumb</p>
+<p class="i6"> With fear of parting, did we wend</p>
+<p class="i2"> Along the meadow lanes that come</p>
+<p class="i6"> From nowhere, and in nothing end,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And, smiling, kiss, though ill at ease,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Under the rustling orchard trees.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> But will the promise given keep?</p>
+<p class="i6"> Can the heart love still when 'tis dead?</p>
+<p class="i2"> What if the spirit, waked from sleep,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Never recall the words it said?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dwell in a dreamland, or else be</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lost in life's eternity?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page64" name="page64"></a>[64]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0038" id="h2H_4_0038"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE ISLAND OF DEATH
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> There is an island in a silent sea</p>
+<p class="i6"> That rises&mdash;four, rough, rugged walls&mdash;on high</p>
+<p class="i2"> Above the ocean in calm majesty.</p>
+<p class="i6"> A mountain of despair against the sky!</p>
+<p class="i6"> About its summit soaring seagulls fly,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or rest them in its lofty cypress trees,</p>
+<p class="i6"> And greet the black barge bearing those who die</p>
+<p class="i2"> Upon our earth to everlasting ease</p>
+<p class="i2"> And pleasant lives that know not man's eternities.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> White halls and palaces their dwellings stand;</p>
+<p class="i6"> These shadowy souls are all unknown to graves</p>
+<p class="i2"> And live, faint phantoms in a fairy land</p>
+<p class="i6"> Of dreams and idleness. They hear the waves</p>
+<p class="i6"> Sing, and the winds come calling from the caves</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of night beyond the ocean, and the cry</p>
+<p class="i6"> Of screaming gulls; stare at each ship that braves</p>
+<p class="i2"> This wilderness of waters, and glides by</p>
+<p class="i2"> In awe-struck silence, ever fearing to draw nigh.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The sun, descending, sows the sea with gold,</p>
+<p class="i6"> And showers splendour through the fading skies,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page65" name="page65"></a>[65]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Whilst from the murky waters they behold</p>
+<p class="i6"> The moon, a shape of silver, slow arise.</p>
+<p class="i6"> And every evening, as the daylight dies,</p>
+<p class="i2"> There comes that bark of death, whose white sail seems</p>
+<p class="i6"> An angel in the dark. A while it lies</p>
+<p class="i2"> Below them in the harbour, then there gleams</p>
+<p class="i2"> A new shape on the stairs up to that land of dreams.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page66" name="page66"></a>[66]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0039" id="h2H_4_0039"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ FROM THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Then, as the whispering evening crossed the sea,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sweeping the waters with her veil of grey,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wave-worn and weary of the ocean, we</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beheld the enchanted island far away&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Half hidden in the twilight low it lay</p>
+<p class="i2"> On the horizon like a lazy cloud,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Its coasts encompassed with long lines of spray.</p>
+<p class="i2"> We spread the sails and swiftly the ship plowed</p>
+<p class="i2"> The purple path ahead until the surf sang loud.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Between the cliffs, by the faint stars, we found</p>
+<p class="i2"> A gloomy gate, and boldly sailing in,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Watched the dark mountains slowly closing round,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And heard faint echoes of the ocean's din</p>
+<p class="i2"> Melting like spirits' voices, fleet and thin;</p>
+<p class="i2"> When of a sudden, as we faltered nigh,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Out of the hills where only night had been</p>
+<p class="i2"> A mist of minarets and towers high,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Rose like the yellow light of morning in the sky.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Gazing we drifted toward that golden bloom</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of palaces whose light glowed on our sail;</p>
+<p class="i2"> There we floated wrapped in wild perfume;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then music burst upon us in a gale;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page67" name="page67"></a>[67]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Grave, deep-toned trumpets and the lyre's long wail,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And farther, the faint sound of singing men.</p>
+<p class="i2"> We grasped our oars&mdash;but slowly, as will pale</p>
+<p class="i2"> The morning star, the vision faded, then</p>
+<p class="i2"> The empty dark swept in and all was night again!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page68" name="page68"></a>[68]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0040" id="h2H_4_0040"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THRENODY
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Have you forgotten me,</p>
+<p class="i6"> O my beloved?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Have you deserted me</p>
+<p class="i6"> Now in the autumn?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> See where the swallows fly</p>
+<p class="i6"> South o'er the ocean:</p>
+<p class="i2"> Soon will the winter wind</p>
+<p class="i6"> Sweep the Ægean.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Up from the vineyard comes</p>
+<p class="i6"> Music of laughter;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Far through the valleys they</p>
+<p class="i6"> Gather the harvest.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Westward the evening star</p>
+<p class="i6"> Sinks in the mountains;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Pale 'neath the rising moon</p>
+<p class="i6"> Lies Mytilene.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Here where the headland looks</p>
+<p class="i6"> Wide o'er the water,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I have brought laurel leaves,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Decking your barrow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page69" name="page69"></a>[69]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Why do I linger now</p>
+<p class="i6"> Vainly lamenting?</p>
+<p class="i2"> O it is lonely, love,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6"> Lonely in Lesbos!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page70" name="page70"></a>[70]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0041" id="h2H_4_0041"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ HELEN
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Again the voices of the hunting horns</p>
+<p class="i2"> And the new moon, low lying on the hills,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tell that the summer night is on its way.&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> O languid heart, shalt thou much longer watch</p>
+<p class="i2"> This pale procession of the silent hours</p>
+<p class="i2"> Melt into shadows of unending years?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Much longer feed on yearning and despair</p>
+<p class="i2"> And all the anguish of departed time?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tomorrow is as yesterday; today</p>
+<p class="i2"> No nearer than the morning when there stood</p>
+<p class="i2"> In Leda's palace, asking for my hand,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tall Menelaus with his yellow hair;</p>
+<p class="i2"> No nearer now than the first time these hands</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dared linger in caress upon the curls</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of him whose dark eyes laughed their love to mine.</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'Tis only as if one short, restless sleep</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lay over the wide chasm of the years</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beyond which loom lost faith and ruined Troy.</p>
+<p class="i2"> The night wind brings, as twenty summers since,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The silver-breasted swallows from the Nile</p>
+<p class="i2"> To quiet Sparta, nestled in her hills,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Locked inland from the voices of the sea;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And far across the porticos I hear</p>
+<p class="i2"> The ivory shuttle singing in the loom</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page71" name="page71"></a>[71]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> 'Midst maidens' chatter, as in olden days;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And men still murmur as they pass me by:</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Lo, look on her, the wonder of the world,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beauteous Helen, Lacedæmon's Queen!"</p>
+<p class="i2"> I watch them gaze intently on my face</p>
+<p class="i2"> As they would keep it in their memory</p>
+<p class="i2"> Forever, and the very while they gaze</p>
+<p class="i2"> I see the flame of Troy gleam in their eyes.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> I think sometimes I have already passed</p>
+<p class="i2"> Into the kingdom of untroubled death,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And wandering lonely amongst them I knew</p>
+<p class="i2"> In Hellas or that land beyond the seas,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Behold each shadow as it passes by</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shrink half involuntarily, and turn,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And veil its face and vanish in the gloom.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whilst out of that dim distance whence my steps</p>
+<p class="i2"> Are moving and to which they shall return</p>
+<p class="i2"> After an interval of endless years,</p>
+<p class="i2"> There comes a voice that calls me from afar:</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Art thou not Helen, dowered of the gods</p>
+<p class="i2"> With all that man can covet? Wert thou not</p>
+<p class="i2"> Created the most beautiful of earth,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And is not beauty wisdom, wisdom power?</p>
+<p class="i2"> What hast thou done with their almighty gift?"</p>
+<p class="i2"> And then, ere I would answer, silence falls</p>
+<p class="i2"> Around me, and the dark divides, and I</p>
+<p class="i2"> See the blue twilight on the Spartan hills.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page72" name="page72"></a>[72]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0042" id="h2H_4_0042"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ LARGO
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Thou only from this sorrow wert relief,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Inviolate death, grave deity of rest,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wherein all things past somehow seem the best</p>
+<p class="i2"> That ever could have come to be. Proud grief</p>
+<p class="i2"> Her lustrous torch hath lighted in this brief</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dim time before the dark, when the wide west</p>
+<p class="i2"> Fades where illimitable skies suggest</p>
+<p class="i2"> Days vanished in the beauty of belief.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> As one unto a battle come, that stands</p>
+<p class="i2"> Aloof awhile, beholding friend and foe</p>
+<p class="i2"> Clashing in conflict, till his soul commands</p>
+<p class="i2"> He, too, prest on whither the bugles blow,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lifting his eyes sees over wasted lands</p>
+<p class="i2"> Life's dust and shadow drifting to and fro.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page73" name="page73"></a>[73]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0043" id="h2H_4_0043"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ LAZARUS
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> At morn we passed a hall where song</p>
+<p class="i6"> And dance had been and wine flowed free,</p>
+<p class="i6"> And where, 'mid wrecks of revelry,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Had lain the feasters all night long.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> They saw us through the mist of dawn,</p>
+<p class="i6"> And, turning, called us to their feast&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6"> The sound of lutes and cymbals ceased&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> But one He fixed His gaze upon.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In whose wide eyes there seemed to be&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6"> Behind the laughing, wine-flushed face</p>
+<p class="i6"> And tilted ivy-crown's gay grace&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Faint glimpses of Eternity.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Then sad, the Master bowed His head,</p>
+<p class="i6"> And, through the rosy twilight, dim,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Walked up and softly spake to him:</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Art thou not he that late was dead?"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The drinker raised his cup on high,</p>
+<p class="i6"> And murmured: "Priest of Nazareth,</p>
+<p class="i6"> I am he thou didst raise from death&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lo, thus I wait again to die!"</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page74" name="page74"></a>[74]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0044" id="h2H_4_0044"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ A CRUCIFIX
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> This was the cross of God on which men's eyes</p>
+<p class="i4"> Dwelt with the love of dead divinity,</p>
+<p class="i4"> As they who by the desolate orient sea</p>
+<p class="i2"> In battle made their sainted sacrifice,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dreaming their boundless striving should devise</p>
+<p class="i4"> A symbol whereby men might know that he</p>
+<p class="i4"> Who wins his way on earth to victory,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thus in his consummated sorrow dies.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> All things are sacred to that tender sight:</p>
+<p class="i4"> Time's ancient altars whence strange incense curled</p>
+<p class="i2"> Innocent to the unknown gods; the light</p>
+<p class="i4"> Of love is thine; faith's banner is unfurled,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Even where the farthest watchmen, through the night,</p>
+<p class="i4"> Call on the cloud-wrapped ramparts of the world.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page75" name="page75"></a>[75]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0045" id="h2H_4_0045"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ NEITH
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Somehow the spirit of that day&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6"> Rain-clouded streets and brooding air&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6"> Determined me to live and dare,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Living, to laugh the world away.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> As in a crystal dreamers see</p>
+<p class="i6"> Out of unwinding mists arise</p>
+<p class="i6"> The splendors of some paradise</p>
+<p class="i2"> Woven of gold and ivory;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Deep in the globe of thought I saw</p>
+<p class="i6"> Dawn from tempestuous dust that form</p>
+<p class="i6"> Toward which the endless ages storm</p>
+<p class="i2"> Uproarious&mdash;to break with awe.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Of all things ignorant, yet wise,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Sitting enthroned at life's last goal,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Dividing body from the soul,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Looking at each with flameless eyes.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Immutable, unknown, unsung,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Through triumph and delight unearned,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Through sorrow undeserved, I learned</p>
+<p class="i2"> Salvation from thy wordless tongue.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page76" name="page76"></a>[76]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Then flying the embracing gloom</p>
+<p class="i6"> Of burnt-out days and parched desire,</p>
+<p class="i6"> I built my soul an altar fire</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of laughter in the face of doom.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page77" name="page77"></a>[77]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0046" id="h2H_4_0046"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ A FAREWELL
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Nay: by this desolate sea our troubled ways</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shall separate forever; swift hath sped</p>
+<p class="i2"> The hour of youth, and yet to hang the head,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lamenting lost things of departed days,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Were only from that shadowland to raise</p>
+<p class="i2"> A wraith, that whispering of the quiet dead,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Would mimic the strange life of love; instead,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Let us relent and hail the past with praise.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Go, then; and should inevitable fate</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lead us at last beyond the world of men</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where laurel and applause content no more,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whither the soul takes silence for its mate,</p>
+<p class="i2"> There might we meet, and, smiling, once again</p>
+<p class="i2"> Clasp hands and part upon some windy shore.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page78" name="page78"></a>[78]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page79" name="page79"></a>[79]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0047" id="h2H_4_0047"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ WILLIAM A. NORRIS
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page80" name="page80"></a>[80]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page81" name="page81"></a>[81]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0048" id="h2H_4_0048"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ OF TOO MUCH SONG
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Sedges, have you sung too much,</p>
+<p class="i6"> Sedges gray along the shore?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Can this autumn tempest touch</p>
+<p class="i6"> Answering chords in you no more?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Is the summer all forgot?&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6"> Now the ice is dark and strong</p>
+<p class="i2"> That has bound you to the spot&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i6"> Did you die of too much song?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Something in me is a harp</p>
+<p class="i6"> Played by every wanton breeze.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Moaning soft and piping sharp</p>
+<p class="i6"> Are its wondrous melodies.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Is the playing over-fast</p>
+<p class="i6"> Though the answer now is strong?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like the sedges at the last</p>
+<p class="i6"> Will it die of too much song?</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page82" name="page82"></a>[82]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0049" id="h2H_4_0049"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2 class="untitled">
+ [WHEREVER MY DREAMS GO]
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Wherever my dreams go, you are always there,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And you and I have gone to many a land,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Seeing high hills at dawn and desert sand,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Temples and mosques and people bowed in prayer.</p>
+<p class="i2"> We too have prayed in many places where</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beauty has come as I have clasped your hand,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And through long silence learned to understand</p>
+<p class="i2"> The dumb sweet language of your eyes and hair.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> We have been lovers in all fair romances</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beyond the rising or the sunken sun.</p>
+<p class="i2"> There have been foes to meet, and I have done</p>
+<p class="i2"> Great deeds beneath the splendor of your glances....</p>
+<p class="i2"> And yet I dreamed alone; you could not guess</p>
+<p class="i2"> What joy you brought into my loneliness.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page83" name="page83"></a>[83]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0050" id="h2H_4_0050"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2 class="untitled">
+ [OUT OF THE LITTLENESS]
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Out of the littleness that wraps my days,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The oppressive mist of gray and common things,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sometimes my dream on its audacious wings,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dripping with golden fire, above the haze,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Flashes and veers against the sudden blaze</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of sunlight. There no other wings may gleam</p>
+<p class="i2"> But only yours, companioning my dream</p>
+<p class="i2"> In its strange flight up new and radiant ways.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And once, I thought, in a far solitude,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The black waves moaned and broke unutterably</p>
+<p class="i2"> On a stern cliff where hand in hand we stood.</p>
+<p class="i2"> There were none near us when the dark had gone,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Only the clean wind of a sailless sea,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And you and I alone in the great dawn.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page84" name="page84"></a>[84]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0051" id="h2H_4_0051"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ NAHANT
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Last night the sea was an enchanted moan</p>
+<p class="i2"> And a pale pathway that the moonlight made.</p>
+<p class="i2"> All night it sorrowed in the dark alone,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Groping with ghostly fingers, half afraid,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Up the great rocks and sobbing back again,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Weary of search, yet still unsatisfied.</p>
+<p class="i2"> It seemed to have the voice of all dead men</p>
+<p class="i2"> And all fair women who had ever died.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> But now the sun has risen, and the spray</p>
+<p class="i2"> Leaps into sudden light along the shore.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Each little wave has caught a golden ray&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2"> As if the dawn had never come before.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beyond the cliffs brown fishing boats go by</p>
+<p class="i2"> Under the reach of the wide laughing sky.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page85" name="page85"></a>[85]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0052" id="h2H_4_0052"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ QUI SUB LUNA ERRANT
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In a strange land they dwell, too far away</p>
+<p class="i2"> From sunlight and the common mirth of men</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ever to come within our casual ken.</p>
+<p class="i2"> We see them not, but if by chance we stray</p>
+<p class="i2"> Down cypress aisles when the wan summer day</p>
+<p class="i2"> Draws to a thin and sickly close, we hear</p>
+<p class="i2"> Murmur of mad speech by some watery weir</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or languid laughter and faint sound of play.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> They never see the dawn; like the pale moths</p>
+<p class="i2"> That haunt lugubrious shadows of dim trees</p>
+<p class="i2"> They celebrate their lunar mysteries</p>
+<p class="i2"> At woodland shrines, where with green thyrsus rods</p>
+<p class="i2"> And weak limbs wrapped in silken sensuous cloths</p>
+<p class="i2"> They chant the names of their dead pagan gods.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page86" name="page86"></a>[86]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0053" id="h2H_4_0053"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2 class="untitled">
+ [ACROSS THE TAUT STRINGS]
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Across the taut strings of my yearning soul</p>
+<p class="i2"> Pass fingers of all fleet and beautiful things:</p>
+<p class="i2"> Comings of dawn and moonlight glimmerings,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Mid-summer hush and Sabbath bells that toll</p>
+<p class="i2"> Over broad fields, a sound of thrushes' wings</p>
+<p class="i2"> Near sunset hour, a girl with lips apart,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wonder and laughter,&mdash;these have touched my heart</p>
+<p class="i2"> And left their music lingering on its strings.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> At twilight of some gray, eventual year,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A few late friends will turn, with trembling breath,</p>
+<p class="i2"> From the raw mound of earth that hides my face....</p>
+<p class="i2"> Yet I shall still find beauty, even in death,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And some lone traveller of the night will hear</p>
+<p class="i2"> An echo of music in that quiet place.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page87" name="page87"></a>[87]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0054" id="h2H_4_0054"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ ESCAPE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> They danced beneath the stars, a crazy rout</p>
+<p class="i2"> With antic steps that had some little grace;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And one leapt high with song and frenzied shout,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And one ran silent with a gleaming face.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> They danced until the shy moon looking down</p>
+<p class="i2"> Deemed herself lost above some Grecian glade;</p>
+<p class="i2"> A mile away the trim New England town</p>
+<p class="i2"> Echoed the Bacchanalian din they made.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And still they danced, until the moon sank low,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Blushing a little, and night's diadem</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of stars grew pale before the eastern glow....</p>
+<p class="i2"> And with the dawn their keepers came for them.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page88" name="page88"></a>[88]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0055" id="h2H_4_0055"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ ON A STREET CORNER
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> But all the time you spoke I did not hear</p>
+<p class="i2"> The words you said. I only heard a far</p>
+<p class="i2"> Faint sound of summer waters and a clear</p>
+<p class="i2"> Calling of music from some lonely star.</p>
+<p class="i2"> I thought I heard the lisp of falling dew</p>
+<p class="i2"> In a dark meadow where no breezes stirred....</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then all at once the noisy street, and you</p>
+<p class="i2"> Smiling at me because I had not heard!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page89" name="page89"></a>[89]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0056" id="h2H_4_0056"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ SEA-BURIAL
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Over the sands the swollen tide came creeping,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Over the sands beneath the gleaming moon;</p>
+<p class="i2"> At first it seemed a child's uncertain croon,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And then a sound of many mourners weeping.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then all at once a crested wave was sweeping</p>
+<p class="i2"> Around the still form in the moonlight there,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Twining its silver fingers in her hair....</p>
+<p class="i2"> And yet it could not rouse her from her sleeping.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> With dawn the tide went seaward, bearing her</p>
+<p class="i2"> In its strong arms that clung so tenderly,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And laid her in a strange place far away</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where the tall seaweeds rise and never stir....</p>
+<p class="i2"> And there she sleeps, while pass alternately</p>
+<p class="i2"> The brooding night and the green luminous day.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page90" name="page90"></a>[90]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page91" name="page91"></a>[91]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0057" id="h2H_4_0057"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ DUDLEY POORE
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page92" name="page92"></a>[92]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page93" name="page93"></a>[93]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0058" id="h2H_4_0058"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ A RENAISSANCE PICTURE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Calm little figure, ivy-crowned,</p>
+<p class="i2"> How long beneath the barren tree</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where this pale, martyred god has found</p>
+<p class="i2"> Surcease from his long agony,</p>
+<p class="i2"> You watch with an untroubled gaze</p>
+<p class="i2"> Life move on its accustomed ways!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Within your childish heart there dwells</p>
+<p class="i2"> No sorrow that uprising dims</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your eye, whence not a teardrop wells</p>
+<p class="i2"> For pity of those writhen limbs,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or for the travail of a race</p>
+<p class="i2"> Consummate in one lifeless face.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Though tinkling caravans go by</p>
+<p class="i2"> Forever over twilight sands,</p>
+<p class="i2"> With myrrh and cassia laden high</p>
+<p class="i2"> For other shrines in other lands,</p>
+<p class="i2"> No weight of grief thereat you know,</p>
+<p class="i2"> But softly on your pan-pipes blow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> From what dim mountain have you strayed,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where, ringed by the Hellenic seas,</p>
+<p class="i2"> You dwelt in an untrodden glade</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page94" name="page94"></a>[94]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Sacred to woodland deities,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Along whose faint paths went at dawn</p>
+<p class="i2"> Endymion or a dancing faun?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> From groves where sacrificing throngs</p>
+<p class="i2"> Called you by some fair Grecian name,</p>
+<p class="i2"> With ritual meet and choric songs,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Strange, that to this dark hill you came</p>
+<p class="i2"> To seek, unmindful of their loss,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A refuge underneath the cross.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> There is some deeper secret lies</p>
+<p class="i2"> Hidden out of human sight</p>
+<p class="i2"> In keeping of those tranquil eyes</p>
+<p class="i2"> That shine with such immortal light,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And in their shadows gleam and glow</p>
+<p class="i2"> While still upon your pipes you blow.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> All but inscrutable, your gaze</p>
+<p class="i2"> Declares your place is even here,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sharing this martyr's cup of praise,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And year by sadly westering year,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Till the last altar lights grow dim,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dividing sovereignty with him.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page95" name="page95"></a>[95]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0059" id="h2H_4_0059"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE PHILOSOPHER'S GARDEN
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Some strange and exquisite desire</p>
+<p class="i2"> Has thrilled this flowering almond tree</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whose branches shake so wistfully,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Else wherefore does it bloom in fire?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Why scatter pollen on the air,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Marry its pale buds each to each,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The year's unkindly tempests bear,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or to the calm clear sunlight reach?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Yet I can give that hope no name,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Nor that divine emotion share,</p>
+<p class="i2"> For, though I see it flowering there,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Because our speech is not the same</p>
+<p class="i2"> The passionate secret must lie hid</p>
+<p class="i2"> Burdened with unexpressed delight,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where none of all man's race can bid</p>
+<p class="i2"> It forth, or voice its beauty right.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> There's nought in earth or heaven knows</p>
+<p class="i2"> That hope for which our being longs,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The stars are busied with their songs,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The universal springtime flows</p>
+<p class="i2"> From sun to sun in scorn of man,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Careless if he be quick or dead,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or if this earth, as it began,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Be voiceless and untenanted.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page96" name="page96"></a>[96]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0060" id="h2H_4_0060"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE TREE OF STARS
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> There stands a tree where no man knows,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And like an earthly tree it grows,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Save that upon its branches wide</p>
+<p class="i2"> The earth and all the stars beside,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The chilly moon and the great sun,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The little planets, one by one,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Are hung like fruit to redden there</p>
+<p class="i2"> And ripen in the heavenly air.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And when the seeds are round and full</p>
+<p class="i2"> The watchful gods will come and pull</p>
+<p class="i2"> The ripened fruit from off the tree;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And then that heavenly company</p>
+<p class="i2"> Will bear the shining planets in</p>
+<p class="i2"> And garner them in a deep bin</p>
+<p class="i2"> And sort them out, and save the seed</p>
+<p class="i2"> To plant new trees in time of need.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page97" name="page97"></a>[97]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0061" id="h2H_4_0061"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ AFTER RAIN
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> All day the heavy skies have lowered,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Long beaten by autumnal rain;</p>
+<p class="i2"> The lilac's withered leaves lie showered</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where little rain-pools star the plain;</p>
+<p class="i2"> All things that for a season flowered</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sink back to earth again.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Strange, then, that with the year's decrease</p>
+<p class="i2"> And out of gathering dusk you rise</p>
+<p class="i2"> Seeking love's ultimate surcease,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Phantom, whose memory-haunted eyes</p>
+<p class="i2"> Know that there never can be peace</p>
+<p class="i2"> Hoped-for, till memory dies.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In vain where these dead leaves lie strown</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where all things, bending earthward, fail,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like a young spirit newly flown,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Flower-fragile, blossom-like and pale,</p>
+<p class="i2"> You search; and must fly back, a blown</p>
+<p class="i2"> Rose leaf on the cold gale.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> You might have rested but for this:</p>
+<p class="i2"> That love's intense flame burning through</p>
+<p class="i2"> The shuddering body with a kiss</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page98" name="page98"></a>[98]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Woke in the prisoned spirit, too,</p>
+<p class="i2"> So keen an ecstasy of bliss</p>
+<p class="i2"> As could, for all they made amiss,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Nor life nor death undo.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page99" name="page99"></a>[99]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0062" id="h2H_4_0062"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ <i>COR CORDIUM</i>
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Deep in a heart, beneath o'er-hanging boughs,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Love built himself a house,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And whoso entered in, Love bade him stay,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Nor ever from that feast to come away</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dissatisfied or weary of the fare</p>
+<p class="i2"> Love set him there.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Forever through the groves and glades</p>
+<p class="i2"> Kind thoughts went softly to and fro,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And memories like white-footed maids</p>
+<p class="i2"> With gentle tread would come and go</p>
+<p class="i2"> Among the ever-garrulous trees.</p>
+<p class="i2"> And through the branches overhead</p>
+<p class="i2"> I know not what sweet spirits strayed,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Or what commandant spirit led</p>
+<p class="i2"> Their mazy dances, but one played</p>
+<p class="i2"> So deftly on a psaltery</p>
+<p class="i2"> That they for joy must needs keep singing;</p>
+<p class="i2"> All the chambers of Love's house</p>
+<p class="i2"> With that sweet minstrelsy were ringing.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Faces to the windows came,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tears to happy eyelids started,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Feeling, as by sudden flame,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Their cares and their sad hearts disparted,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Each old clinging sorrow dead.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page100" name="page100"></a>[100]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> All who ever guested there</p>
+<p class="i2"> To each other, murmuring, said:</p>
+<p class="i2"> "In this heart breathes purer air,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The thoughts that move across this sky</p>
+<p class="i2"> Have had a more mysterious birth,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Are lovelier, float more statelily</p>
+<p class="i2"> Than clouds across the sky of earth."</p>
+<p class="i2"> All guests within that heart's deep wood,</p>
+<p class="i2"> All friends together in that house,</p>
+<p class="i2"> High converse held with an ærial brood,</p>
+<p class="i2"> With spirit-folk kept delicate carouse;</p>
+<p class="i2"> None ever turned ungreeted from that door.</p>
+<p class="i2"> (Sorrow himself was guest a weary while,)</p>
+<p class="i2"> But yesterday when I passed by once more,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Met me no welcoming smile,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Nor any breath the unwavering branch to stir,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Silent each glad ærial chorister;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Three drowsy poppies brooded by the wall,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lonely and tall.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Then, as I leaned above their crimson bloom,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The flower of day grew old and witheréd,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Night with a sigh sat down beside her loom</p>
+<p class="i2"> Winding her shuttle with a silver thread.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Suddenly from the starlit plains of air</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ethereal tumult, airy tempest blew,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Immortal music showering everywhere,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Flashed to the earth in an harmonious dew,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Leaped jubilant from cloud to craggy cloud,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page101" name="page101"></a>[101]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Binding the moon in a melodious chain,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Storming the troubled stars, a luminous crowd,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Dropping in fiery streaks to earth again.</p>
+<p class="i2"> From out the windows of God's house</p>
+<p class="i2"> Faint as a far-echoing wave,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The angels, bending their calm brows,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Song for song in answer gave;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And faster than a falcon flies,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thronging spirits in a cluster</p>
+<p class="i2"> Passed before my dazzled eyes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shedding an ærial lustre,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Burning with translucent fire,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Shaking from their dewy wings</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wild, ineffable desire</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of starry and immortal things,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Torturing with delicious pain</p>
+<p class="i2"> Past telling sweet, the bewildered heart,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Piercing the poor mortal brain</p>
+<p class="i2"> With beauty, a keen fiery dart.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ah! Even as an oracle</p>
+<p class="i2"> Whose soul a god has breathed upon,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The beauteousness unbearable</p>
+<p class="i2"> Possessed me so all strength was gone.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Smitten by a barbéd joy,</p>
+<p class="i2"> My sense with rapturous pain grew dim,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Joy pierced me as it would destroy.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Still higher rose the celestial hymn.</p>
+<p class="i2"> And then of all that starry throng</p>
+<p class="i2"> That streamed toward the upper sky,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page102" name="page102"></a>[102]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> One spirit darted down again,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And stood upon a bough near by.</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Even I unsealed thy sight," he said.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Alas, that shape I did not know,</p>
+<p class="i2"> For he was so transfigured,</p>
+<p class="i2"> So circled by the unearthly glow</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of his pulsating aureole;</p>
+<p class="i2"> I who so well the flesh had known</p>
+<p class="i2"> I did not know the soul.</p>
+<p class="i2"> With troubled eyes he bended down,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And all about me where I stood</p>
+<p class="i2"> Every blossom, every tree,</p>
+<p class="i2"> All the branches of that wood</p>
+<p class="i2"> Were trembling in their ecstasy.</p>
+<p class="i2"> They knew ere I had half divined.</p>
+<p class="i2"> But at his voice old dreams awoke</p>
+<p class="i2"> In dusty chambers of the mind,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And when again he softly spoke</p>
+<p class="i2"> With sudden tears mine eyes were wet.</p>
+<p class="i2"> And lowlier still he bent his head:</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Dost thou, dear friend, not know me yet?"</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Yes, for I know thy voice," I said.</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Dear Phantom, this immortal guise,</p>
+<p class="i2"> This disembodied self of thine,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Hath dazed mine unacquainted eyes.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thou dweller on the steps divine,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thou image of a god's desire,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thou spark of the celestial flame</p>
+<p class="i2"> Art fashioned out of wind and fire</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page103" name="page103"></a>[103]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> And elements without a name;</p>
+<p class="i2"> What sacred fingers mingled them</p>
+<p class="i2"> And trembled with a god's delight?</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thy body is a burning gem,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thy limbs are chrysolite.</p>
+<p class="i2"> A glory hangs about thy head</p>
+<p class="i2"> For thou in thine immortal lot</p>
+<p class="i2"> In heaven's own light art garmented.</p>
+<p class="i2"> I know thee, yet I know thee not."</p>
+<p class="i2"> Then he, with shining eyes half shut,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Radiantly standing there:</p>
+<p class="i2"> "I did but change my leafy hut</p>
+<p class="i2"> For a mansion in the air,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The eerie wood, the enchanted ground,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The dim, bird-haunted glades we trod,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Grew all untuneful when I found</p>
+<p class="i2"> A dwelling in the heart of God.</p>
+<p class="i2"> I latched the gate at dawn of day,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I planted poppies by the door,</p>
+<p class="i2"> To His retreats I came away</p>
+<p class="i2"> And I shall wander thence no more.</p>
+<p class="i2"> The windy heights are all my love,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The spheral lights, the spheral chimes,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The trailing fires, the hosts that move</p>
+<p class="i2"> In concourse through sidereal climes;</p>
+<p class="i2"> I troop with the celestial choirs;</p>
+<p class="i2"> We have not any wish to be</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sad pilgrims, torn by sad desires,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wayfarers of mortality.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page104" name="page104"></a>[104]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> The husk of flesh we have put by;</p>
+<p class="i2"> The dark seeds planted in the earth</p>
+<p class="i2"> Have blossomed in the upper sky,</p>
+<p class="i2"> In airy gardens have new birth."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> There did he make an end, for O</p>
+<p class="i2"> Those spirits, singing, darted by again,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And at the showering sound he trembled so</p>
+<p class="i2"> I saw his earthly dalliance gave him pain,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And cried in sorrow, "O my friend, farewell!</p>
+<p class="i2"> Now from the luminous, paradisal bands,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Gabriel, Israfel, Ithuriel,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beckon to you with their exulting hands."</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page105" name="page105"></a>[105]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0063" id="h2H_4_0063"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE WITHERED LEAF, THE FADED FLOWER BE MINE
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The withered leaf, the faded flower be mine,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The broken shrine,</p>
+<p class="i2"> All things that knowing beauty for a day</p>
+<p class="i2"> Have passed away</p>
+<p class="i2"> To dwell in the illimitable wood</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of quietude,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Undying, radiant, young,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Passed years among.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> No blighting wind upon their beauty blows,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The altar glows</p>
+<p class="i2"> With flames unquenchable and bright</p>
+<p class="i2"> By day, by night;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Secure from envious time's deflowering breath</p>
+<p class="i2"> They know no death,</p>
+<p class="i2"> But silently, imperishably fair,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Grow lovelier there.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> He who adores too much the impending hour,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The budding flower,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Who knows not with what dyes an hour that's dead</p>
+<p class="i2"> Is garmented,</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page106" name="page106"></a>[106]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> Who walks with glimmering shapes companionless,</p>
+<p class="i2"> He cannot guess</p>
+<p class="i2"> With how great love and thankfulness I praise</p>
+<p class="i2"> The yesterdays.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page107" name="page107"></a>[107]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0064" id="h2H_4_0064"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page108" name="page108"></a>[108]</span></p>
+
+<div style="height: 3em;"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><!--[Blank Page]--><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page109" name="page109"></a>[109]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0065" id="h2H_4_0065"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE END OF IT
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> We met, and on the decorous drive touched hands,</p>
+<p class="i2"> "Good-bye; a pleasant trip to you," I said.</p>
+<p class="i2"> The sunlight slept upon the still uplands,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Your figure fading in the dusty red</p>
+<p class="i2"> I watched awhile, then turned with casual face</p>
+<p class="i2"> To where a torrent glimmered down a glade,</p>
+<p class="i2"> No human voice troubled the lovely place,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Only the fall a cruel music made.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> A time I lay and marked with curious stare</p>
+<p class="i2"> The keen sun-lances quiver on the lawn,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And thought on shrines all voiceless now and bare,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The holy genius of their boughs withdrawn,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Till with hoarse cry the train that you were on</p>
+<p class="i2"> Stabbed the indifference of the empty air ...</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Then I awoke and knew that you were gone.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page110" name="page110"></a>[110]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0066" id="h2H_4_0066"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE NEW PLATONIST
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+ <i>Circa 1640</i>
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Our loves as flowers fall to dust;</p>
+<p class="i2"> The noblest singing hath an end;</p>
+<p class="i2"> No man to his own soul may trust,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Nor to the kind arms of his friend;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Yet have I glimpsed by lonely tree,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Bright baths of immortality.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> My faultless teachers bid me fare</p>
+<p class="i2"> The cypress path of blood and tears,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Treading the thorny wold to where</p>
+<p class="i2"> The painful Cross of Christ appears;</p>
+<p class="i2"> 'Twas on another, sunnier hill</p>
+<p class="i2"> I met you first, my miracle.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> The painted windows burn and flame</p>
+<p class="i2"> Up through the music-haunted air;</p>
+<p class="i2"> These were my gods&mdash;and then you came</p>
+<p class="i2"> With flowers crowned and sun-kissed hair,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Making this northern river seem</p>
+<p class="i2"> Some laughter-girdled Grecian stream.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page111" name="page111"></a>[111]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> When the fierce foeman of our race</p>
+<p class="i2"> Marshals his lords of lust and pride,</p>
+<p class="i2"> You spring within a moment's space,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Full-armed and smiling to my side;</p>
+<p class="i2"> O golden heart! The love you gave me</p>
+<p class="i2"> Alone has saved and yet will save me.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Perchance we have no perfect city</p>
+<p class="i2"> Beyond the wrack of these our wars,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Till Death alone in sacred pity</p>
+<p class="i2"> Wash with long sleep our wounds and scars;</p>
+<p class="i2"> So much the more I praise in measure</p>
+<p class="i2"> The generous gods for you, my treasure.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page112" name="page112"></a>[112]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0067" id="h2H_4_0067"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE ROOM OVER THE RIVER
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Good-night, my love, good-night;</p>
+<p class="i2"> The wan moon holds her lantern high,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And softly threads with nodding light</p>
+<p class="i2"> The violet posterns of the sky,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Below, the tides run swift and bright</p>
+<p class="i2"> Into the sea.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Odours and sounds come in to us,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Faint with the passion of this night,</p>
+<p class="i2"> One little dream hangs luminous</p>
+<p class="i2"> Above you in the scented light;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Roses and mist, stars and bright dew</p>
+<p class="i2"> Draw down to you.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> How often in the dewy brake,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I've heard above the sighing weirs,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The night-bird singing for your sake</p>
+<p class="i2"> His lonely song of love and tears;</p>
+<p class="i2"> He too, sad heart, hath turned to rest,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And sleep is best.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Flower of my soul! Let us be true</p>
+<p class="i2"> To youth and love and all delight,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Clean and refreshed and one with you</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page113" name="page113"></a>[113]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> I would be ever as to-night,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And heed not what the day will bring,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Nor anything.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And now the moon is safe away,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Far off her carriage lampions flare,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Lost in the sunken roads of day,</p>
+<p class="i2"> They vanish in the icy air.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Good-night, my love, good-night,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Good-night.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page114" name="page114"></a>[114]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0068" id="h2H_4_0068"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ THE FIDDLER
+</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Once more I thought I heard him plain,</p>
+<p class="i2"> That unseen fiddler in the lane,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Under the timid twilight moon,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Playing his visionary strain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> No other soul was in the place</p>
+<p class="i2"> As up the hill I came apace;</p>
+<p class="i2"> Though once I heard him every day,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I never once have seen his face.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> It was my immemorial year,</p>
+<p class="i2"> When rhymes came fast and blood beat clear;</p>
+<p class="i2"> He too, perchance, was then alive,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Now separate ghosts, we wander here.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Sometimes his ghostly rondelay</p>
+<p class="i2"> Broke on my dream at dawn of day,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And through my open window stole</p>
+<p class="i2"> The perfumed marvel of the May.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> Sometimes in midnight lanes I heard</p>
+<p class="i2"> The twitter of a darkling bird,</p>
+<p class="i2"> As hidden from the ashen moon,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The pathos of his music stirred.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page115" name="page115"></a>[115]</span></p>
+
+<p class="i2"> O happy time! How goodly seemed</p>
+<p class="i2"> The dauntless timeless dream I dreamed,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Those dear imaginary sins,</p>
+<p class="i2"> The joys that in one torrent streamed.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> When moon and stars go out for aye,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And I am dead and castaway,</p>
+<p class="i2"> This autumn city I have loved</p>
+<p class="i2"> Will know me not, but he will stay.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In faded suburbs he will play.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Some other boy's brief morn away,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Till sapphire windows palely burn</p>
+<p class="i2"> Amid the undefeated gray.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And yet&mdash;sometimes I seem to know</p>
+<p class="i2"> I shall not 'scape his phantom bow;</p>
+<p class="i2"> More paramount than death or pain,</p>
+<p class="i2"> This ghost will follow where I go.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In some well-kept untroubled hell</p>
+<p class="i2"> Where frustrate souls like mine may dwell,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I shall look up and hear his note</p>
+<p class="i2"> Coming across the asphodel.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> No shades will gather at his tune</p>
+<p class="i2"> To dance their ghostly rigadoon,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Only that lonely voice will cleave</p>
+<p class="i2"> The everlasting afternoon.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page116" name="page116"></a>[116]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0069" id="h2H_4_0069"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ FALSTAFF'S PAGE
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+ <i>To Reginald Sheffield</i>
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> In blaze of curls and cowslip-colored coat</p>
+<p class="i2"> He pranks a way before the wheezing Knight.</p>
+<p class="i2"> Tall Windsor shows no blossom like this wight</p>
+<p class="i2"> By park or sedgy pool or bearded moat;</p>
+<p class="i2"> A skylark burbles in that milk-white throat,</p>
+<p class="i2"> And I have heard him down a singing stream,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Ere the brute morn shattered my happy dream</p>
+<p class="i2"> Upon the sill, and weeping I awoke.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> We had a music once; a poesie</p>
+<p class="i2"> Sweet as a maiden, lissome as this lad,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Full of rich merriment and gentle joy;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> That other England lives and laughs in thee,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A peal of morris-music, blithe and glad,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Thou spray of bloom! Thou flower of a boy!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page117" name="page117"></a>[117]</span></p>
+
+<a name="h2H_4_0070" id="h2H_4_0070"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
+
+<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<h2>
+ A DULL SUNDAY
+</h2>
+
+<h3>
+ (<i>After Debussy</i>)
+</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> It has been a long day,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A long, long day;</p>
+<p class="i2"> And now in floods of twilight,</p>
+<p class="i2"> In long green waves of sunset softly flowing,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Evening.</p>
+<p class="i2"> It is evening over the great towns,</p>
+<p class="i2"> It is evening in our hearts.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And though the last frail tendrils</p>
+<p class="i2"> And flowers of incense</p>
+<p class="i2"> Have long ago uncurled themselves around</p>
+<p class="i2"> The cynical Cathedral,</p>
+<p class="i2"> I hear the thin white voices of children,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Little girls and little boys,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Calling the name of Jesus</p>
+<p class="i2"> And His most Sacred Heart,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Singing about a kind of parish heaven,</p>
+<p class="i2"> A little walled city, all golden and lilac,</p>
+<p class="i2"> Like the one seen by François Villon's mother</p>
+<p class="i2"> In an old, bituminous, smoke-bitten painting</p>
+<p class="i2"> Of the Middle Ages.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p class="i2"> And in this faith she wished to live and die.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>[<b>Transcriber's Note:</b> Untitled poems whose titles are omitted in the body
+of the text as originally published have had their conventional "first
+line" titles (as seen in the table of contents) added to the body of this
+transcription. They are enclosed in square brackets and are in gray text as an indication to
+the reader.]</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<div style="height: 6em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eight Harvard Poets, by
+E. Estlin Cummings and S. Foster Damon and J. R. Dos Passos and Robert Hillyer and R. S. Mitchell
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eight Harvard Poets, by
+E. Estlin Cummings and S. Foster Damon and J. R. Dos Passos and Robert Hillyer and R. S. Mitchell
+
+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: Eight Harvard Poets
+
+Author: E. Estlin Cummings
+ S. Foster Damon
+ J. R. Dos Passos
+ Robert Hillyer
+ R. S. Mitchell
+
+Release Date: June 24, 2011 [EBook #36508]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIGHT HARVARD POETS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Meredith Bach, David Garcia 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.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+EIGHT HARVARD POETS
+
+ E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS
+ S. FOSTER DAMON
+ J. R. DOS PASSOS
+ ROBERT HILLYER
+ R. S. MITCHELL
+ WILLIAM A. NORRIS
+ DUDLEY POORE
+ CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ NEW YORK
+ LAURENCE J. GOMME
+ 1917
+
+
+
+
+ Copyright, 1917, by
+ LAURENCE J. GOMME
+
+ VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY
+ BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+ PAGE
+ E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS
+
+ Thou in Whose Sword-Great Story Shine the Deeds 3
+ A Chorus Girl 4
+ This is the Garden 5
+ It May not Always be so 6
+ Crepuscule 7
+ Finis 8
+ The Lover Speaks 9
+ Epitaph 10
+
+
+ S. FOSTER DAMON
+
+ Incessu Patuit Deus 13
+ You Thought I had Forgotten 15
+ Venice 16
+ The New Macaber 18
+ To War 20
+ Calm Day, with Rollers 21
+ Phonograph--Tango 22
+ Decoration 24
+ Threnody 25
+
+
+ J. R. DOS PASSOS
+
+ The Bridge 29
+ Salvation Army 30
+ Incarnation 32
+ Memory 34
+ Saturnalia 37
+ "Whan that Aprille" 39
+ Night Piece 40
+
+
+ ROBERT HILLYER
+
+ Four Sonnets from a Sonnet-Sequence 45
+ A Sea Gull 49
+ Domesday 50
+ To a Passepied by Scarlatti 52
+ Elegy for Antinous 53
+ Song 54
+ "My Peace I Leave with You" 55
+ The Recompense 56
+
+
+ R. S. MITCHELL
+
+ Poppy Song 59
+ Love Dream 62
+ The Island of Death 64
+ From the Arabian Nights 66
+ Threnody 68
+ Helen 70
+ Largo 72
+ Lazarus 73
+ A Crucifix 74
+ Neith 75
+ A Farewell 77
+
+
+ WILLIAM A. NORRIS
+
+ Of Too Much Song 81
+ Wherever My Dreams Go 82
+ Out of the Littleness 83
+ Nahant 84
+ Qui Sub Luna Errant 85
+ Across the Taut Strings 86
+ Escape 87
+ On a Street Corner 88
+ Sea-burial 89
+
+
+ DUDLEY POORE
+
+ A Renaissance Picture 93
+ The Philosopher's Garden 95
+ The Tree of Stars 96
+ After Rain 97
+ Cor Cordium 99
+ The Withered Leaf, the Faded Flower be Mine 105
+
+
+ CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+
+ The End of It 109
+ The New Platonist 110
+ The Room Over the River 112
+ The Fiddler 114
+ Falstaff's Page 116
+ A Dull Sunday 117
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+E. ESTLIN CUMMINGS
+
+
+
+
+[THOU IN WHOSE SWORD-GREAT STORY SHINE THE DEEDS]
+
+
+ Thou in whose sword-great story shine the deeds
+ Of history her heroes, sounds the tread
+ Of those vast armies of the marching dead,
+ With standards and the neighing of great steeds
+ Moving to war across the smiling meads;
+ Thou by whose page we break the precious bread
+ Of dear communion with the past, and wed
+ To valor, battle with heroic breeds;
+
+ Thou, Froissart, for that thou didst love the pen
+ While others wrote in steel, accept all praise
+ Of after ages, and of hungering days
+ For whom the old glories move, the old trumpets cry;
+ Who gav'st as one of those immortal men
+ His life that his fair city might not die.
+
+
+
+
+A CHORUS GIRL
+
+
+ When thou hast taken thy last applause, and when
+ The final curtain strikes the world away,
+ Leaving to shadowy silence and dismay
+ That stage which shall not know thy smile again,
+ Lingering a little while I see thee then
+ Ponder the tinsel part they let thee play;
+ I see the red mouth tarnished, the face grey,
+ And smileless silent eyes of Magdalen.
+
+ The lights have laughed their last; without, the street
+ Darkling, awaiteth her whose feet have trod
+ The silly souls of men to golden dust.
+ She pauses, on the lintel of defeat,
+ Her heart breaks in a smile--and she is Lust ...
+ Mine also, little painted poem of God.
+
+ This is the garden: colors come and go,
+ Frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing,
+ Strong silent greens serenely lingering,
+ Absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
+ This is the garden: pursed lips do blow
+ Upon cool flutes within wide glooms, and sing,
+ Of harps celestial to the quivering string,
+ Invisible faces hauntingly and slow.
+
+ This is the garden. Time shall surely reap,
+ And on Death's blade lie many a flower curled,
+ In other lands where other songs be sung;
+ Yet stand They here enraptured, as among
+ The slow deep trees perpetual of sleep
+ Some silver-fingered fountain steals the world.
+
+ It may not always be so; and I say
+ That if your lips, which I have loved, should touch
+ Another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
+ His heart, as mine in time not far away;
+ If on another's face your sweet hair lay
+ In such a silence as I know, or such
+ Great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
+ Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
+
+ If this should be, I say if this should be--
+ You of my heart, send me a little word;
+ That I may go unto him, and take his hands,
+ Saying, Accept all happiness from me.
+ Then shall I turn my face, and hear one bird
+ Sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
+
+
+
+
+CREPUSCULE
+
+
+ I will wade out
+ till my thighs are steeped in burn-
+ ing flowers
+ I will take the sun in my mouth
+ and leap into the ripe air
+ Alive
+ with closed eyes
+ to dash against darkness
+ in the sleeping curves of my
+ body
+ Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
+ with chasteness of sea-girls
+ Will I complete the mystery
+ of my flesh
+ I will rise
+ After a thousand years
+ lipping
+ flowers
+ And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
+
+
+
+
+FINIS
+
+
+ Over silent waters
+ day descending
+ night ascending
+ floods the gentle glory of the sunset
+ In a golden greeting
+ splendidly to westward
+ as pale twilight
+ trem-
+ bles
+ into
+ Darkness
+ comes the last light's gracious exhortation
+ Lifting up to peace
+ so when life shall falter
+ standing on the shores of the
+ eternal
+ god
+ May I behold my sunset
+ Flooding
+ over silent waters
+
+
+
+
+THE LOVER SPEAKS
+
+
+ Your little voice
+ Over the wires came leaping
+ and I felt suddenly
+ dizzy
+ With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
+ wee skipping high-heeled flames
+ courtesied before my eyes
+ or twinkling over to my side
+ Looked up
+ with impertinently exquisite faces
+ floating hands were laid upon me
+ I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing
+ up
+ Up
+ with the pale important
+ stars and the Humorous
+ moon
+ dear girl
+ How I was crazy how I cried when I heard
+ over time
+ and tide and death
+ leaping
+ Sweetly
+ your voice
+
+
+
+
+EPITAPH
+
+
+ Tumbling-hair
+ picker of buttercups
+ violets
+ dandelions
+ And the big bullying daisies
+ through the field wonderful
+ with eyes a little sorry
+ Another comes
+ also picking flowers
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+S. FOSTER DAMON
+
+
+
+
+INCESSU PATUIT DEUS
+
+
+ The little clattering stones along the street
+ Dance with each other round my swimming feet;
+ The street itself, as in some crazy dream,
+ Streaks past, a half-perceived material stream.
+
+ Brighter than early dawn's most brilliant dye
+ Are blown clear bands of color through the sky,
+ That swirl and sweep and meet, to break and foam
+ Like rainbow veils upon a bubble's dome.
+
+ Yours are the songs that burst about my ears,
+ Or blow away as many-colored spheres.
+
+ You are the star that made the skies all bright,
+ Yet tore itself away in flaming flight;
+ You are the tree that suddenly awoke;
+ You are the rose that came to life and spoke....
+
+ Guided by you, how we might stroll towards death,
+ Our only music one another's breath,
+ Through gardens intimate with hollyhocks,
+ Where silent poppies burn between the rocks,
+ By pools where birches bend to confidants
+ Above green waters scummed with lily-plants.
+
+ There we might wander, you and I alone,
+ Through gardens filled with marble seats moss-grown,
+ And fountains--water-threads that winds disperse--
+ While in the spray the birds sit and converse.
+
+ And when the fireflies mix their circling glow
+ Through the dark plants, then gently might I know
+ Your lips, light as the wings of the dragon-flies....
+
+ --Merely dreams, fluttering in my eyes....
+
+
+
+
+[YOU THOUGHT I HAD FORGOTTEN]
+
+
+ You thought I had forgotten. Well, I had!
+ (Although I never guessed I could forget
+ Those few great moments when we both went mad.)
+
+ The other day at someone's tea we met,
+ Smiling gayly, bowed, and went our several ways,
+ Complacent with successful coldness.--Yet
+
+ Suddenly I was back in the old days
+ Before you felt we ought to drift apart.
+ It was some trick--the way your eyebrows raise,
+
+ Your hands--some vivid trifle. With a start
+ Then I remembered how I lived alone,
+ Writing bad poems and eating out my heart
+
+ All for your beauty.--How the time has flown!
+
+
+
+
+VENICE
+
+
+ In a sunset glowing of crimson and gold,
+ She lies, the glory of the world,
+ A beached king's galley, whose sails are furled,
+ Who is hung with tapestries rich and old.
+
+ Beautiful as a woman is she,
+ A woman whose autumn of life is here,
+ Proud and calm at the end of the year
+ With the grace that now is majesty.
+
+ The sleeping waters bathe her sides,
+ The warm, blue streams of the Adrian Sea;
+ She dreams and drowses languorously,
+ Swayed in the swaying of the tides.
+
+ She is a goddess left for us,
+ Veiled with the softening veils of time;
+ Her blue-veined breasts are now sublime,
+ Her moulded torso glorious.
+
+ The pity that we must come and go--!
+ While the old gold and the marble stays,
+ Forever gleaming its soft strong blaze,
+ Calm in the early evening glow.
+
+ And still the sensitive silhouettes
+ Of the gondolas pass and leave no track,
+ Light on the tides as lilies, and black
+ In the rippling waters of long sunsets.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW MACABER
+
+
+ The pleasant graveyard of my soul
+ With sentimental cypress trees
+ And flowers is filled, that I may stroll
+ In meditation, at my ease.
+
+ The little marble stones are lost
+ In flowers surging from the dead;
+ Nor is there any mournful ghost
+ To wail until the night is sped.
+
+ And while night rustles through the trees,
+ Dragging the stars along, I know
+ The moon is rising on the breeze,
+ Quivering as in a river's flow.
+
+ And ah! that moon of silver sheen!
+ It is my heart hung in the sky;
+ And no clouds ever float between
+ The grave-flowers and my heart on high.
+
+ I do not read upon each stone
+ The name that once was carven there;
+ I merely note new blossoms blown
+ And breathe the perfume of the air.
+
+ Thus walk I through my wonderland
+ While all the evening is atune,
+ Beneath the cypress trees that stand
+ Like candles to the barren moon.
+
+
+
+
+TO WAR
+
+
+ The music beats, up the chasmed street,
+ Then flares from around the curve;
+ The cheers break out from the waving crowd:
+ --Our soldiers march, superb!
+ Over the track-lined city street
+ The young men, the grinning men, pass.
+
+ Last night they danced to that very tune;
+ Today they march away;
+ Tomorrow, perhaps no band at all,
+ Or the band beside the grave.
+ Above, in the long blue strip of sky,
+ The whirling pigeons, the thoughtless pigeons, pass.
+
+ Another band beats down the street;
+ Contending rhythms clash;
+ New melodies win place, then fade,
+ And the flashing legs move past.
+ Down the cheering, grey-paved street
+ The fringed flags, the erect flags, pass.
+
+
+
+
+CALM DAY, WITH ROLLERS
+
+
+ Always the ships that move in mystery, on the dim horizon,
+ Shadow-filled sails of dreams, sliding over the blue-grey ocean,
+ Far from the rock-edged shore where willow-green waves are rushing,
+ And white foam-people leap, to stand erect for the moment.
+
+ Ho! ye sails that seem to wander in dream-filled meadows,
+ Say, is the shore where I stand the only field of struggle,
+ Or are ye hit and battered out there by waves and wind-gusts
+ As ye tack over a clashing sea of watery echoes?
+
+
+
+
+PHONOGRAPH--TANGO
+
+
+ Old dances are simplified of their yearning, bleached by Time.
+ Yet from one black disc
+ we tasted again the bite of crude Spanish passion.
+
+ ... He had got into her courtyard.
+ She was alone that night.
+ Through the black night-rain, he sang to her window bars:
+
+ _Love me, love--ah, love me!_
+ _If you will not, I can follow_
+ _Into the highest of mountains;_
+ _And there, in the wooden cabin,_
+ _I will strangle you for your lover._
+
+ --That was but rustling of dripping plants in the dark.
+ More tightly under his cloak, he clasped his guitar.
+
+ _Love, ah-h! love me, love me!_
+ _If you will do this, I can buy_
+ _A fringed silk scarf of yellow,_
+ _A high comb carved of tortoise;_
+ _Then we will dance in the Plaza._
+
+ She was alone that night.
+ He had broken into her courtyard.
+ Above the gurgling gutters
+ he heard--
+ surely--
+ a door unchained?
+
+ The passage was black; but he risked it--
+ death in the darkness--
+ or her hot arms--(_love--love me ah-h-h!_)
+
+ "A good old tune," she murmured
+ --and I found we were dancing.
+
+
+
+
+DECORATION
+
+
+ A little pagan child-god plays
+ Beyond the far horizon haze,
+ And underneath the twilight trees
+ He blows a bubble to the breeze,
+ Which is borne upward in the night
+ And makes the heavens shine with light.
+ But soon it sinks to earth again,
+ And, hitting hills, it bursts! And then
+ With foam the skies are splashed and sprayed;
+ And that's how all the stars are made.
+
+
+
+
+THRENODY
+
+
+ She is lain with high things and with low.
+ She lies
+ With shut eyes,
+ Rocked in the eternal flow
+ Of silence evermore.
+
+ Desperately immortal, she;
+ She stands
+ With wide hands
+ Dim through the veil of eternity,
+ Behind the supreme door.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+J. R. DOS PASSOS
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDGE
+
+
+ The lonely bridge cuts dark across the marsh
+ Whose long pools glow with the light
+ Of a flaring summer sunset.
+ At this end limp bushes overhang,
+ Palely reflected in the amber-colored water;
+ Among them a constant banjo-twanging of frogs,
+ And shrilling of toads and of insects
+ Rises and falls in chorus rhythmic and stirring.
+
+ Dark, with crumbling railing and planks,
+ The bridge leads into the sunset.
+ Across it many lonely figures,
+ Their eyes a-flare with the sunset,
+ Their faces glowing with its colors,
+ Tramp past me through the evening.
+
+ I am tired of sitting quiet
+ Among the bushes of the shore,
+ While the dark bridge stretches onward,
+ And the long pools gleam with light;
+ I am tired of the shrilling of insects
+ And the croaking of frogs in the rushes,
+ For the wild rice in the marsh-pools
+ Waves its beckoning streamers in the wind,
+ And the red sky-glory fades.
+
+
+
+
+SALVATION ARMY
+
+
+ A drum pounds out the hymn,
+ Loud with gaudy angels, tinsel cherubim,
+ To drown the fanfare of the street,
+ And with exultant lilting beat,
+ To mingle the endless rumble of carts,
+ The scrape of feet, the noise of marts
+ And dinning market stalls, where women shout
+ Their wares, and meat hangs out--
+ Grotesque, distorted by the gas flare's light--
+ Into one sacred rhythm for the Devil's spite.
+
+ A woman's thin, raucous voice
+ Carries the tune, bids men rejoice,
+ Bathe in God's mercy,
+ Draw near and learn salvation, see
+ With their own eyes the mystery.
+ Cymbals, at the hands of a tired girl,
+ Slim wisp amid the swirl
+ Of crowded streets, take up the tune,
+ Monotonously importune.
+ Faces are wan in the arc-light's livid glare;
+ A wind gust carries the band's flare
+ Of song, in noisy eddies echoing,
+ Round lonely black street-corners,
+
+ Till, with distance dimming,
+ It fades away,
+ Among the silent, dark array
+ Of city houses where no soul stirs.
+
+ The crowd thins, the players are alone;
+ In their faith's raucous monotone,
+ Loud with gaudy angels, tinsel cherubim,
+ A drum pounds out the hymn.
+
+
+
+
+INCARNATION
+
+
+ Incessantly the long rain falls,
+ Slanting on black walls,
+ Which glisten gold where a street lamp shines.
+
+ In a shop-window, spangled in long lines,
+ By rain-drops all a-glow,
+ An Italian woman's face
+ Flames into my soul as I go
+ Hastily by in the turbulent darkness;--
+ An oval olive face,
+ With the sweetly sullen grace
+ Of the Virgin when first she sees,
+ Amid her garden's silver lilies,
+ The white-robed angel gleam,
+ And softly, as by a sultry dream,
+ Feels all her soul subdued unto the fire
+ And radiance of her ecstasy.
+ So in some picture, on which as on a lyre,
+ An old Italian painter laboriously has played
+ His soul away, his love, all his desire
+ For fragrant things afar from earth,
+ Shines the Madonna, as with a veil overlaid
+ By incense-smoke and dust age-old,
+ At whose feet, in time of dearth
+ Or need, a myriad men have laid
+ Their sorrows and arisen bold.
+
+ Incessantly the long rain falls,
+ Slanting on black walls.
+ But through the dark interminable streets,
+ Along pavements where rain beats
+ Its sharp tattoo, and gas-lamps shine,
+ Greenish gold in the solitude,
+ The vision flames through my mood
+ Of that Italian woman's face,
+ Through the dripping window-pane.
+
+
+
+
+MEMORY
+
+
+ Between rounded hills,
+ White with patches of buckwheat, whose fragrance fills
+ The little breeze that makes the birch-leaves quiver,
+ Beside a rollicking swift river,
+ Light green in the deeps,--
+ Like your eyes in sunshine,--
+ Winds the canal,
+ Lazy and brown as a water-snake,
+ Full of dazzle and sheen where the breeze sweeps
+ The water with gossamer garments, that shake
+ The reeds standing sentinel,
+ And the marginal line
+ Of birches and willows.
+
+ Our little steamer pulls its way
+ With jingle of bells and panting throb
+ Of old engines.
+ In stiff array
+ The water-reeds wave,
+ And solemnly sway
+ To the wash and swell of our passing.
+ Among the reeds the ripples sob,
+ And die away,
+ 'Till the canal is still again, save
+ For a kingfisher's flashing
+ Across the noon shimmer.
+
+ I stood beside you in the bow,
+ Watched the sunlight lose itself among your hair,
+ That the breeze tugged at.
+ Bright as the shattered sun-rays, where the prow
+ Cut the still water,
+ The warm light caught and tangled there,
+ Red gold amid your hair.
+
+ You were very slim in your blue serge dress....
+ We talked of meaningless things, education,
+ Agreed that unless,
+ Something were changed disaster would come to the nation.
+ You smiled when I pointed where
+ A group of birches shivered in the green wood-shadow,
+ Up to their knees in water, white and fair
+ As dryads bathing.
+ A row
+ Of flat white houses and a wharf
+ Glided in sight.
+ The hoarse whistle shrieked for a landing;
+ Bells jangled.... You were standing
+ A slim blue figure amid the wharf's crowd;
+ The little steamer creaked against the side, loud
+ Screamed the whistle again....
+
+ Monotonously the solemn reeds
+ Waved to our passing;
+ Ahead the canal shimmered, blotched green by the water-weeds.
+ With a grinding swing
+ And see-saw of sound,
+ The steamer slunk down the canal.
+
+ I never even knew your name....
+
+ That night from a dingy hotel room,
+ I saw the moon, like a golden gong,
+ Redly loom
+ Across the lake; like a golden gong
+ In a temple, which a priest ere long
+ Will strike into throbbing song,
+ To wake some silent twinkling city to prayer.
+ The lake waves were flakes of red gold,
+ Burnished to copper,
+ Gold, red as the tangled gleam
+ Of sunlight in your hair.
+
+
+
+
+SATURNALIA
+
+
+ In earth's womb the old gods stir,
+ Fierce chthonian dieties of old time.
+ With cymbals and rattle of castanets,
+ And shriek of slug-horns, the North Wind
+ Bows the oak and the moaning fir,
+ On russet hills and by roadsides stiff with rime.
+
+ In nature, dead, the life gods stir,
+ From Rhadamanthus and the Isles,
+ Where Saturn rules the Age of Gold,
+ Come old, old ghosts of bygone gods;
+ While dim mists earth's outlines blur,
+ And drip all night from lichen-greened roof-tiles.
+
+ In men's hearts the mad gods rise
+ And fill the streets with revelling,
+ With torchlight that glances on frozen pools,
+ With tapers starring the thick-fogged night,
+ A-dance, like strayed fireflies,
+ 'Mid dim mad throngs who Saturn's orisons sing.
+
+ In driven clouds the old gods come,
+ When fogs the face of Apollo have veiled;
+ A fear of things, unhallowed, strange,
+ And a fierce free joy flares in the land.
+ Men mutter runes in language dead,
+ By night, with rumbling drum,
+ In quaking groves where the woodland spirits are hailed.
+
+ To earth's brood of souls of old,
+ With covered heads and aspen wands,
+ Mist-shrouded priests do ancient rites;
+ The black ram's fleece is stained with blood,
+ That steams, dull red on the frozen ground;
+ And pale votaries shiver with the cold,
+ That numbs the earth, and etches patterned mirrors on the ponds.
+
+
+
+
+"WHAN THAT APRILLE ..."
+
+
+ Is it the song of a meadow lark
+ Off the brown, sere salt marshes,
+ Or the eager patches in dooryards
+ Of yellow and pale lilac crocuses;
+ Or else the suburban street golden with sunlight,
+ And the bare branches of elm trees
+ Twined in the delicate sky?
+ Or is it the merry piping
+ Of a distant hurdy-gurdy?--
+ That makes me so weary and faint with desire
+ For strange lands and new scents;
+ For the rough-rhythmed clank
+ Of train couplings at night,
+ And the stormy, gay-tinted sunrises
+ That shade with purple the contours
+ Of far-off, unfamiliar hills.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT PIECE
+
+
+ A silver web has the moon spun,
+ A silver web upon all the sky,
+ Where the frail stars quiver, every one
+ Like tangled gnats that hum and die.
+
+ The moon has tangled the dull night
+ In her silver skein and set alight
+ Each dew-damp branch with milky flame.
+ And huge the moon broods on the night.
+
+ My soul is caught in the web of the moon,
+ Like a shrilling gnat in a spider's web.
+ Importunate memories shrill in my ears
+ Like the gnats that die in the spider web.
+
+ Lovely as death, in the moon's shroud,
+ Were town streets, grey houses, dim,
+ Full of strange peace in the silent night.
+ As we walked our footsteps clattered loud.
+ We felt the night as a troubled song ...
+ Oh, the triumphing sense of life a-throb.
+ Behind those walls, in those dark streets,
+ Like the sound of a river, swift, unseen,
+ Flowing in darkness. Oh, the hoarse
+ Half-heard murmur swirling beneath
+ The snowy beauty of moonlight....
+
+ And that other night,
+ When the river rippled with faint spears
+ Of street lights vaguely reflected. Grey
+ The evening, like an opal; low,
+ A grey moon shrouded in sea fog:
+ Air pregnant with spring; rasp of my steps
+ Beside the lapping water; within
+ The dark. Down the worn out years a sob
+ Of broken loves; old pain
+ Of dead farewells; and one face
+ Fading into grey....
+
+ A silver web has the moon spun,
+ A silver web over all the sky.
+ In her flooding glory, one by one,
+ Like gnats in a web the stars die.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+ROBERT HILLYER
+
+
+
+
+FOUR SONNETS FROM A SONNET-SEQUENCE
+
+
+I
+
+ Quickly and pleasantly the seasons blow
+ Over the meadows of eternity,
+ As wave on wave the pulsings of the sea
+ Merge and are lost, each in the other's flow.
+ Time is no lover; it is only he
+ That is the one unconquerable foe,
+ He is the sudden tempest none can know,
+ Winged with swift winds the none may hope to flee.
+
+ Fair child of loveliness, these endless fears
+ Are nought to us; let us be gods of stone,
+ And set our images beyond the years
+ On some high mount where we can be alone.
+ And thou shalt ever be as now thou art,
+ And I shall watch thee with untroubled heart.
+
+
+II
+
+ Then judge me as thou wilt, I cannot flee,
+ I cannot turn away from thee forever,
+ For there are bonds that wisdom cannot sever
+ And slaves with souls far freer than the free.
+ Such strong desires the universal Giver
+ With unknown plan has buried deep in me
+ That the exquisite joy of watching thee
+ Has dominated all my life's endeavor.
+
+ Thou weariest of having me so near,
+ I feel the scorn thou hast within thy heart,
+ And yet thy face has never seemed so dear
+ As now, when I am minded to depart.
+ Though thou shouldst drive me hence, I love thee so
+ That I would watch thee when thou dost not know.
+
+
+III
+
+ Fly, joyous wind, through all the wakened earth
+ Now when the portals of the dawn outpour
+ A myriad wonders from the radiant store
+ Of spring's deep passion and loud-ringing mirth.
+ Cry to the world that I despair no more,
+ Heart greets my heart and hope has proved its worth;
+ Fly where the legions of the sun have birth,
+ Chant everywhere and everywhere adore.
+
+
+ Circle the basking hills in fragrant flight,
+ Shout Rapture! Rapture! if sweet sorrow passes,
+ And whisper low in intimate delight
+ My love-song to the undulating grasses.
+ Grief is no more, love rises with the spring,
+ O fly, free wind, and Rapture! Rapture! sing.
+
+
+IV
+
+ Long after both of us are scattered dust
+ And some strange souls perchance shall read of thee,
+ Finding the yearnings that have crushed from me
+ These poor confessions of my love and trust,
+ I know how misinterpreted will be
+ These lines, for men will laugh, or more unjust,
+ Thinking not once of love, but only lust,
+ Will stain the vesture of our memory.
+
+ And yet a few there may be who will feel
+ My deep devotion and my true desires,
+ And know that these unhappy words reveal
+ Only new images in changeless fires;
+ And they perchance will linger with a sigh
+ To think that beauty such as thine must die.
+
+
+
+
+A SEA GULL
+
+
+ Grey wings, O grey wings against a cloud,
+ Over the rough waves flashing,
+ Whose was the scream, startling and loud,
+ Keen through the skies,--was it thine,
+ Over the moaning wind and the whine
+ Of the wide seas dashing?
+ Whose was the scream that I heard
+ In the midst of the hurrying air?
+ Was it thine, lost bird,
+ Or the voice of an old despair
+ Chanting from years long dead,
+ Inexorable spirit flying
+ On tempest wings that passed and fled
+ Through the storm crying?
+
+
+
+
+DOMESDAY
+
+
+ The garlands and the songs of May
+ Shall welcome in the Judgment Day;
+ About the basking country-side
+ Blossom the souls of them that died.
+ O Dead awake! Arise in bloom
+ Upon the joyous dawn of doom.
+
+ They rise up from the bleeding earth
+ In gracious legions of re-birth,
+ Each as a flower or a tree
+ Of verdant immortality.
+ And hosts of glad-voiced angels sing
+ In the rippling groves of spring.
+
+ From the grave of youth there grows
+ A passionately-petaled rose,
+ Where the virgin whitely lies
+ A lily fair as Paradise.
+ And in that old oak's leafy glee
+ Some gouty sire makes sport of me.
+
+ O Dead of yore and yesterday
+ All hail the resurrecting May!
+ Beside you in the flowering grass
+ The feet of youth and love shall pass,
+ And we that greet you with a smile
+ Shall join you in a little while.
+
+
+
+
+TO A PASSEPIED BY SCARLATTI
+
+
+ Strange little tune so thin and rare
+ Like scents of roses of long ago,
+ Quavering lightly upon the strings
+ Of a violin, and dying there
+ With a dancing flutter of delicate wings;
+ Thy courtly joy and thy gentle woe,
+ Thy gracious gladness and plaintive fears
+ Are lost in the clamorous age we know,
+ And pale like a moon in the lurid day;
+ A phantom of music, strangely fled
+ From the princely halls of the quiet dead,
+ Down the long lanes of the vanished years
+ Echoing frailly and far away.
+
+
+
+
+ELEGY FOR ANTINOUS
+
+
+ Come, let us hasten hence and weep no more,
+ The sinking sea flows on its tranquil ways,
+ Night looms serenely at the eastern door
+ And trails the last cloud into lifeless haze.
+ Antinous is dead, we kneel before
+ The portals of our past in vain, nor raise
+ The laughing phantoms of our yesterdays
+ Upon this desolate and empty shore.
+
+ Now deepening pools of shadow overflow
+ Into the sea of dark; a far-off bell
+ Sobs with a sweet vibration long and slow
+ A last farewell, forevermore, farewell;
+ And will He wake and hear? We cannot tell;
+ And will He answer? Ah, we do not know.
+
+
+
+
+SONG
+
+
+ O crimson rose, O crimson rose,
+ Crushed lightly in two little hands;
+ A child's soft kiss was in your heart,
+ A child's warm breath was in your soul.
+
+ The child is gone, O crimson rose,
+ And stained and hardened are the hands,
+ And who shall find your golden heart
+ And who shall kiss your withered soul?
+
+ Happy are you, O crimson rose,
+ But I have stains upon my hands;
+ You died with kisses in your heart,
+ I live with sorrow in my soul.
+
+
+
+
+"MY PEACE I LEAVE WITH YOU"
+
+
+ He pondered long, and watched the darkening space
+ Close the red portals whence the hours had run,
+ As like young wistful angels, one by one,
+ The stars cast timid flowers about His face.
+ "Yea, now another scarlet day is done!"
+ He cried in anguish, and with sudden grace
+ Stretched forth His arms, as though He would erase
+ The few, dim embers of the scattered sun.
+
+ "The scarlet day is done, and soon the light
+ Will wake again my desecrated skies.
+ Oh, that another dawn might never rise!--
+ My foolish children!" Through the vast of night
+ The young stars shivered in a silver horde
+ Before the Infinite Sorrow of their Lord.
+
+
+
+
+THE RECOMPENSE
+
+
+ When the last song is sung, and the last spark
+ Of light dies out forever, and the dark,
+ The voiceless dark eternal shrouds the earth;
+ When the last cries of pain and shouts of mirth
+ Sink in the desolate silences of space;
+ Where then shall flower the beauty of your face,
+ O Love the laughing, Youth the rose-in-hand,
+ In what unknown and undiscovered land
+ Shall flower then the beauty of your face?
+
+ I know not but I know that all returns
+ At last unchanged, and to the heart that yearns
+ Shall be repaid all loneliness and loss.
+ Sometime with shadowy sails shall fly across
+ The shoreless ocean of infinity
+ A ship from out the past, and the great sea
+ Of life shall bear you from the strange worlds over
+ The waves, and back again to the old lover.
+
+ Yes, in some future far beyond surmise
+ You will dream here with half-remembering eyes,
+ And I shall write these words, content awhile
+ In the slow round of time to see you smile.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+R. S. MITCHELL
+
+
+
+
+POPPY SONG
+
+
+I
+
+ Footsteps soft as fall the rose's
+ Petals on a dewy lawn,
+ Shaken when the wind uncloses
+ Golden gateways for the dawn;
+
+ Laughter light as is the swallows'
+ Chatter in the evening sky,
+ Wafted upward from the hollows
+ Where the limpid waters lie;
+
+ Weeping faint as is the willow's
+ By the margin of the lake,
+ Trembling into tiny billows
+ That the silent teardrops make;
+
+ Phantoms fitful and uncertain
+ As the pearly autumn rain,
+ Sweeping on in cloudy curtain
+ Down the wide way of the plain.
+
+
+II
+
+ Oh, unhappy now to waken
+ When the dream had scarce begun!
+ Out of gentle twilight taken
+ Into realms of burning sun:
+
+ Oh, unhappy now to find me
+ Lost 'neath heavens hot with noon;
+ All that fairy land behind me;
+ Poppy fields and rising moon!
+
+ Drawbridge and portcullis screeching,
+ Bugles braying soon and late;
+ Who are they that come beseeching,
+ Calling at my castle gate?
+
+ Drive them hence, for they encumber
+ Days and nights with waking pain;
+ Tell them that I lie and slumber
+ Under poppies, wet with rain.
+
+ Who art thou that bendest praying
+ Over me with clasped palms;
+ Dim through surging darkness, saying
+ Words of prayer and murmured psalms?
+
+ Who art thou that kneelest weeping
+ By the border of my bed?
+ Cease thou, for I was but sleeping--
+ Dreaming, only, and not dead!
+
+
+III
+
+ Phantoms flitting and uncertain
+ Sweeping round the endless plain;
+ Autumn twilight's dusky curtain,
+ Drowsy poppies, drenched with rain.
+
+
+
+
+LOVE DREAM
+
+
+ Strange that on warp and woof of dreams
+ Fancy should weave the web of truth,
+ And yet this fairy figment seems
+ Part of a half-forgotten youth
+ Stolen from days I thought were sped
+ Out of the world beyond the dead.
+
+ Smiled she not when at the edge
+ Of evening we walked alone
+ Plucking spring's blossoms from the hedge
+ That she might wear them as her own,
+ Or do I hold a hopeless tryst
+ Here with a shadow, made of mist?
+
+ Now as will crumpled rose leaves, pent
+ By fingers we can never know,
+ Rouse with the richness of their scent,
+ Thoughts of a summer long ago,
+ All the expanse of land and sea
+ Speaks with a thousand tongues to me.
+
+ 'Twas from coast we watched slow form,
+ Out of the frosty ocean's breath,
+ The blue-gray ramparts of the storm
+ Flashing with signal fires of death,
+ Whilst with a murmur, far and wide,
+ Swept in the low wind with the tide.
+
+ Then, at last, when lips were dumb
+ With fear of parting, did we wend
+ Along the meadow lanes that come
+ From nowhere, and in nothing end,
+ And, smiling, kiss, though ill at ease,
+ Under the rustling orchard trees.
+
+ But will the promise given keep?
+ Can the heart love still when 'tis dead?
+ What if the spirit, waked from sleep,
+ Never recall the words it said?
+ Dwell in a dreamland, or else be
+ Lost in life's eternity?
+
+
+
+
+THE ISLAND OF DEATH
+
+
+ There is an island in a silent sea
+ That rises--four, rough, rugged walls--on high
+ Above the ocean in calm majesty.
+ A mountain of despair against the sky!
+ About its summit soaring seagulls fly,
+ Or rest them in its lofty cypress trees,
+ And greet the black barge bearing those who die
+ Upon our earth to everlasting ease
+ And pleasant lives that know not man's eternities.
+
+ White halls and palaces their dwellings stand;
+ These shadowy souls are all unknown to graves
+ And live, faint phantoms in a fairy land
+ Of dreams and idleness. They hear the waves
+ Sing, and the winds come calling from the caves
+ Of night beyond the ocean, and the cry
+ Of screaming gulls; stare at each ship that braves
+ This wilderness of waters, and glides by
+ In awe-struck silence, ever fearing to draw nigh.
+
+ The sun, descending, sows the sea with gold,
+ And showers splendour through the fading skies,
+ Whilst from the murky waters they behold
+ The moon, a shape of silver, slow arise.
+ And every evening, as the daylight dies,
+ There comes that bark of death, whose white sail seems
+ An angel in the dark. A while it lies
+ Below them in the harbour, then there gleams
+ A new shape on the stairs up to that land of dreams.
+
+
+
+
+FROM THE ARABIAN NIGHTS
+
+
+ Then, as the whispering evening crossed the sea,
+ Sweeping the waters with her veil of grey,
+ Wave-worn and weary of the ocean, we
+ Beheld the enchanted island far away--
+ Half hidden in the twilight low it lay
+ On the horizon like a lazy cloud,
+ Its coasts encompassed with long lines of spray.
+ We spread the sails and swiftly the ship plowed
+ The purple path ahead until the surf sang loud.
+
+ Between the cliffs, by the faint stars, we found
+ A gloomy gate, and boldly sailing in,
+ Watched the dark mountains slowly closing round,
+ And heard faint echoes of the ocean's din
+ Melting like spirits' voices, fleet and thin;
+ When of a sudden, as we faltered nigh,
+ Out of the hills where only night had been
+ A mist of minarets and towers high,
+ Rose like the yellow light of morning in the sky.
+
+ Gazing we drifted toward that golden bloom
+ Of palaces whose light glowed on our sail;
+ There we floated wrapped in wild perfume;
+ Then music burst upon us in a gale;
+ Grave, deep-toned trumpets and the lyre's long wail,
+ And farther, the faint sound of singing men.
+ We grasped our oars--but slowly, as will pale
+ The morning star, the vision faded, then
+ The empty dark swept in and all was night again!
+
+
+
+
+THRENODY
+
+
+ Have you forgotten me,
+ O my beloved?
+ Have you deserted me
+ Now in the autumn?
+
+ See where the swallows fly
+ South o'er the ocean:
+ Soon will the winter wind
+ Sweep the AEgean.
+
+ Up from the vineyard comes
+ Music of laughter;
+ Far through the valleys they
+ Gather the harvest.
+
+ Westward the evening star
+ Sinks in the mountains;
+ Pale 'neath the rising moon
+ Lies Mytilene.
+
+ Here where the headland looks
+ Wide o'er the water,
+ I have brought laurel leaves,
+ Decking your barrow.
+
+ Why do I linger now
+ Vainly lamenting?
+ O it is lonely, love,--
+ Lonely in Lesbos!
+
+
+
+
+HELEN
+
+
+ Again the voices of the hunting horns
+ And the new moon, low lying on the hills,
+ Tell that the summer night is on its way.--
+ O languid heart, shalt thou much longer watch
+ This pale procession of the silent hours
+ Melt into shadows of unending years?
+ Much longer feed on yearning and despair
+ And all the anguish of departed time?
+ Tomorrow is as yesterday; today
+ No nearer than the morning when there stood
+ In Leda's palace, asking for my hand,
+ Tall Menelaus with his yellow hair;
+ No nearer now than the first time these hands
+ Dared linger in caress upon the curls
+ Of him whose dark eyes laughed their love to mine.
+ 'Tis only as if one short, restless sleep
+ Lay over the wide chasm of the years
+ Beyond which loom lost faith and ruined Troy.
+ The night wind brings, as twenty summers since,
+ The silver-breasted swallows from the Nile
+ To quiet Sparta, nestled in her hills,
+ Locked inland from the voices of the sea;
+ And far across the porticos I hear
+ The ivory shuttle singing in the loom
+ 'Midst maidens' chatter, as in olden days;
+ And men still murmur as they pass me by:
+ "Lo, look on her, the wonder of the world,
+ Beauteous Helen, Lacedaemon's Queen!"
+ I watch them gaze intently on my face
+ As they would keep it in their memory
+ Forever, and the very while they gaze
+ I see the flame of Troy gleam in their eyes.
+
+ I think sometimes I have already passed
+ Into the kingdom of untroubled death,
+ And wandering lonely amongst them I knew
+ In Hellas or that land beyond the seas,
+ Behold each shadow as it passes by
+ Shrink half involuntarily, and turn,
+ And veil its face and vanish in the gloom.
+ Whilst out of that dim distance whence my steps
+ Are moving and to which they shall return
+ After an interval of endless years,
+ There comes a voice that calls me from afar:
+ "Art thou not Helen, dowered of the gods
+ With all that man can covet? Wert thou not
+ Created the most beautiful of earth,
+ And is not beauty wisdom, wisdom power?
+ What hast thou done with their almighty gift?"
+ And then, ere I would answer, silence falls
+ Around me, and the dark divides, and I
+ See the blue twilight on the Spartan hills.
+
+
+
+
+LARGO
+
+
+ Thou only from this sorrow wert relief,
+ Inviolate death, grave deity of rest,
+ Wherein all things past somehow seem the best
+ That ever could have come to be. Proud grief
+ Her lustrous torch hath lighted in this brief
+ Dim time before the dark, when the wide west
+ Fades where illimitable skies suggest
+ Days vanished in the beauty of belief.
+
+ As one unto a battle come, that stands
+ Aloof awhile, beholding friend and foe
+ Clashing in conflict, till his soul commands
+ He, too, prest on whither the bugles blow,
+ Lifting his eyes sees over wasted lands
+ Life's dust and shadow drifting to and fro.
+
+
+
+
+LAZARUS
+
+
+ At morn we passed a hall where song
+ And dance had been and wine flowed free,
+ And where, 'mid wrecks of revelry,
+ Had lain the feasters all night long.
+
+ They saw us through the mist of dawn,
+ And, turning, called us to their feast--
+ The sound of lutes and cymbals ceased--
+ But one He fixed His gaze upon.
+
+ In whose wide eyes there seemed to be--
+ Behind the laughing, wine-flushed face
+ And tilted ivy-crown's gay grace--
+ Faint glimpses of Eternity.
+
+ Then sad, the Master bowed His head,
+ And, through the rosy twilight, dim,
+ Walked up and softly spake to him:
+ "Art thou not he that late was dead?"
+
+ The drinker raised his cup on high,
+ And murmured: "Priest of Nazareth,
+ I am he thou didst raise from death--
+ Lo, thus I wait again to die!"
+
+
+
+
+A CRUCIFIX
+
+
+ This was the cross of God on which men's eyes
+ Dwelt with the love of dead divinity,
+ As they who by the desolate orient sea
+ In battle made their sainted sacrifice,
+ Dreaming their boundless striving should devise
+ A symbol whereby men might know that he
+ Who wins his way on earth to victory,
+ Thus in his consummated sorrow dies.
+
+ All things are sacred to that tender sight:
+ Time's ancient altars whence strange incense curled
+ Innocent to the unknown gods; the light
+ Of love is thine; faith's banner is unfurled,
+ Even where the farthest watchmen, through the night,
+ Call on the cloud-wrapped ramparts of the world.
+
+
+
+
+NEITH
+
+
+ Somehow the spirit of that day--
+ Rain-clouded streets and brooding air--
+ Determined me to live and dare,
+ Living, to laugh the world away.
+
+ As in a crystal dreamers see
+ Out of unwinding mists arise
+ The splendors of some paradise
+ Woven of gold and ivory;
+
+ Deep in the globe of thought I saw
+ Dawn from tempestuous dust that form
+ Toward which the endless ages storm
+ Uproarious--to break with awe.
+
+ Of all things ignorant, yet wise,
+ Sitting enthroned at life's last goal,
+ Dividing body from the soul,
+ Looking at each with flameless eyes.
+
+ Immutable, unknown, unsung,
+ Through triumph and delight unearned,
+ Through sorrow undeserved, I learned
+ Salvation from thy wordless tongue.
+
+ Then flying the embracing gloom
+ Of burnt-out days and parched desire,
+ I built my soul an altar fire
+ Of laughter in the face of doom.
+
+
+
+
+A FAREWELL
+
+
+ Nay: by this desolate sea our troubled ways
+ Shall separate forever; swift hath sped
+ The hour of youth, and yet to hang the head,
+ Lamenting lost things of departed days,
+ Were only from that shadowland to raise
+ A wraith, that whispering of the quiet dead,
+ Would mimic the strange life of love; instead,
+ Let us relent and hail the past with praise.
+
+ Go, then; and should inevitable fate
+ Lead us at last beyond the world of men
+ Where laurel and applause content no more,
+ Whither the soul takes silence for its mate,
+ There might we meet, and, smiling, once again
+ Clasp hands and part upon some windy shore.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+WILLIAM A. NORRIS
+
+
+
+
+OF TOO MUCH SONG
+
+
+ Sedges, have you sung too much,
+ Sedges gray along the shore?
+ Can this autumn tempest touch
+ Answering chords in you no more?
+ Is the summer all forgot?--
+ Now the ice is dark and strong
+ That has bound you to the spot--
+ Did you die of too much song?
+
+ Something in me is a harp
+ Played by every wanton breeze.
+ Moaning soft and piping sharp
+ Are its wondrous melodies.
+ Is the playing over-fast
+ Though the answer now is strong?
+ Like the sedges at the last
+ Will it die of too much song?
+
+
+
+
+[WHEREVER MY DREAMS GO]
+
+
+ Wherever my dreams go, you are always there,
+ And you and I have gone to many a land,
+ Seeing high hills at dawn and desert sand,
+ Temples and mosques and people bowed in prayer.
+ We too have prayed in many places where
+ Beauty has come as I have clasped your hand,
+ And through long silence learned to understand
+ The dumb sweet language of your eyes and hair.
+
+ We have been lovers in all fair romances
+ Beyond the rising or the sunken sun.
+ There have been foes to meet, and I have done
+ Great deeds beneath the splendor of your glances....
+ And yet I dreamed alone; you could not guess
+ What joy you brought into my loneliness.
+
+
+
+
+[OUT OF THE LITTLENESS]
+
+
+ Out of the littleness that wraps my days,
+ The oppressive mist of gray and common things,
+ Sometimes my dream on its audacious wings,
+ Dripping with golden fire, above the haze,
+ Flashes and veers against the sudden blaze
+ Of sunlight. There no other wings may gleam
+ But only yours, companioning my dream
+ In its strange flight up new and radiant ways.
+
+ And once, I thought, in a far solitude,
+ The black waves moaned and broke unutterably
+ On a stern cliff where hand in hand we stood.
+ There were none near us when the dark had gone,--
+ Only the clean wind of a sailless sea,
+ And you and I alone in the great dawn.
+
+
+
+
+NAHANT
+
+
+ Last night the sea was an enchanted moan
+ And a pale pathway that the moonlight made.
+ All night it sorrowed in the dark alone,
+ Groping with ghostly fingers, half afraid,
+ Up the great rocks and sobbing back again,
+ Weary of search, yet still unsatisfied.
+ It seemed to have the voice of all dead men
+ And all fair women who had ever died.
+
+ But now the sun has risen, and the spray
+ Leaps into sudden light along the shore.
+ Each little wave has caught a golden ray--
+ As if the dawn had never come before.
+ Beyond the cliffs brown fishing boats go by
+ Under the reach of the wide laughing sky.
+
+
+
+
+QUI SUB LUNA ERRANT
+
+
+ In a strange land they dwell, too far away
+ From sunlight and the common mirth of men
+ Ever to come within our casual ken.
+ We see them not, but if by chance we stray
+ Down cypress aisles when the wan summer day
+ Draws to a thin and sickly close, we hear
+ Murmur of mad speech by some watery weir
+ Or languid laughter and faint sound of play.
+
+ They never see the dawn; like the pale moths
+ That haunt lugubrious shadows of dim trees
+ They celebrate their lunar mysteries
+ At woodland shrines, where with green thyrsus rods
+ And weak limbs wrapped in silken sensuous cloths
+ They chant the names of their dead pagan gods.
+
+
+
+
+[ACROSS THE TAUT STRINGS]
+
+
+ Across the taut strings of my yearning soul
+ Pass fingers of all fleet and beautiful things:
+ Comings of dawn and moonlight glimmerings,
+ Mid-summer hush and Sabbath bells that toll
+ Over broad fields, a sound of thrushes' wings
+ Near sunset hour, a girl with lips apart,
+ Wonder and laughter,--these have touched my heart
+ And left their music lingering on its strings.
+
+ At twilight of some gray, eventual year,
+ A few late friends will turn, with trembling breath,
+ From the raw mound of earth that hides my face....
+ Yet I shall still find beauty, even in death,
+ And some lone traveller of the night will hear
+ An echo of music in that quiet place.
+
+
+
+
+ESCAPE
+
+
+ They danced beneath the stars, a crazy rout
+ With antic steps that had some little grace;
+ And one leapt high with song and frenzied shout,
+ And one ran silent with a gleaming face.
+
+ They danced until the shy moon looking down
+ Deemed herself lost above some Grecian glade;
+ A mile away the trim New England town
+ Echoed the Bacchanalian din they made.
+
+ And still they danced, until the moon sank low,
+ Blushing a little, and night's diadem
+ Of stars grew pale before the eastern glow....
+ And with the dawn their keepers came for them.
+
+
+
+
+ON A STREET CORNER
+
+
+ But all the time you spoke I did not hear
+ The words you said. I only heard a far
+ Faint sound of summer waters and a clear
+ Calling of music from some lonely star.
+ I thought I heard the lisp of falling dew
+ In a dark meadow where no breezes stirred....
+ Then all at once the noisy street, and you
+ Smiling at me because I had not heard!
+
+
+
+
+SEA-BURIAL
+
+
+ Over the sands the swollen tide came creeping,
+ Over the sands beneath the gleaming moon;
+ At first it seemed a child's uncertain croon,
+ And then a sound of many mourners weeping.
+ Then all at once a crested wave was sweeping
+ Around the still form in the moonlight there,
+ Twining its silver fingers in her hair....
+ And yet it could not rouse her from her sleeping.
+
+ With dawn the tide went seaward, bearing her
+ In its strong arms that clung so tenderly,
+ And laid her in a strange place far away
+ Where the tall seaweeds rise and never stir....
+ And there she sleeps, while pass alternately
+ The brooding night and the green luminous day.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+DUDLEY POORE
+
+
+
+
+A RENAISSANCE PICTURE
+
+
+ Calm little figure, ivy-crowned,
+ How long beneath the barren tree
+ Where this pale, martyred god has found
+ Surcease from his long agony,
+ You watch with an untroubled gaze
+ Life move on its accustomed ways!
+
+ Within your childish heart there dwells
+ No sorrow that uprising dims
+ Your eye, whence not a teardrop wells
+ For pity of those writhen limbs,
+ Or for the travail of a race
+ Consummate in one lifeless face.
+
+ Though tinkling caravans go by
+ Forever over twilight sands,
+ With myrrh and cassia laden high
+ For other shrines in other lands,
+ No weight of grief thereat you know,
+ But softly on your pan-pipes blow.
+
+ From what dim mountain have you strayed,
+ Where, ringed by the Hellenic seas,
+ You dwelt in an untrodden glade
+ Sacred to woodland deities,
+ Along whose faint paths went at dawn
+ Endymion or a dancing faun?
+
+ From groves where sacrificing throngs
+ Called you by some fair Grecian name,
+ With ritual meet and choric songs,
+ Strange, that to this dark hill you came
+ To seek, unmindful of their loss,
+ A refuge underneath the cross.
+
+ There is some deeper secret lies
+ Hidden out of human sight
+ In keeping of those tranquil eyes
+ That shine with such immortal light,
+ And in their shadows gleam and glow
+ While still upon your pipes you blow.
+
+ All but inscrutable, your gaze
+ Declares your place is even here,
+ Sharing this martyr's cup of praise,
+ And year by sadly westering year,
+ Till the last altar lights grow dim,
+ Dividing sovereignty with him.
+
+
+
+
+THE PHILOSOPHER'S GARDEN
+
+
+ Some strange and exquisite desire
+ Has thrilled this flowering almond tree
+ Whose branches shake so wistfully,
+ Else wherefore does it bloom in fire?
+ Why scatter pollen on the air,
+ Marry its pale buds each to each,
+ The year's unkindly tempests bear,
+ Or to the calm clear sunlight reach?
+
+ Yet I can give that hope no name,
+ Nor that divine emotion share,
+ For, though I see it flowering there,
+ Because our speech is not the same
+ The passionate secret must lie hid
+ Burdened with unexpressed delight,
+ Where none of all man's race can bid
+ It forth, or voice its beauty right.
+
+ There's nought in earth or heaven knows
+ That hope for which our being longs,
+ The stars are busied with their songs,
+ The universal springtime flows
+ From sun to sun in scorn of man,
+ Careless if he be quick or dead,
+ Or if this earth, as it began,
+ Be voiceless and untenanted.
+
+
+
+
+THE TREE OF STARS
+
+
+ There stands a tree where no man knows,
+ And like an earthly tree it grows,
+ Save that upon its branches wide
+ The earth and all the stars beside,
+ The chilly moon and the great sun,
+ The little planets, one by one,
+ Are hung like fruit to redden there
+ And ripen in the heavenly air.
+
+ And when the seeds are round and full
+ The watchful gods will come and pull
+ The ripened fruit from off the tree;
+ And then that heavenly company
+ Will bear the shining planets in
+ And garner them in a deep bin
+ And sort them out, and save the seed
+ To plant new trees in time of need.
+
+
+
+
+AFTER RAIN
+
+
+ All day the heavy skies have lowered,
+ Long beaten by autumnal rain;
+ The lilac's withered leaves lie showered
+ Where little rain-pools star the plain;
+ All things that for a season flowered
+ Sink back to earth again.
+
+ Strange, then, that with the year's decrease
+ And out of gathering dusk you rise
+ Seeking love's ultimate surcease,
+ Phantom, whose memory-haunted eyes
+ Know that there never can be peace
+ Hoped-for, till memory dies.
+
+ In vain where these dead leaves lie strown
+ Where all things, bending earthward, fail,
+ Like a young spirit newly flown,
+ Flower-fragile, blossom-like and pale,
+ You search; and must fly back, a blown
+ Rose leaf on the cold gale.
+
+ You might have rested but for this:
+ That love's intense flame burning through
+ The shuddering body with a kiss
+ Woke in the prisoned spirit, too,
+ So keen an ecstasy of bliss
+ As could, for all they made amiss,
+ Nor life nor death undo.
+
+
+
+
+_COR CORDIUM_
+
+
+ Deep in a heart, beneath o'er-hanging boughs,
+ Love built himself a house,
+ And whoso entered in, Love bade him stay,
+ Nor ever from that feast to come away
+ Dissatisfied or weary of the fare
+ Love set him there.
+
+ Forever through the groves and glades
+ Kind thoughts went softly to and fro,
+ And memories like white-footed maids
+ With gentle tread would come and go
+ Among the ever-garrulous trees.
+ And through the branches overhead
+ I know not what sweet spirits strayed,
+ Or what commandant spirit led
+ Their mazy dances, but one played
+ So deftly on a psaltery
+ That they for joy must needs keep singing;
+ All the chambers of Love's house
+ With that sweet minstrelsy were ringing.
+ Faces to the windows came,
+ Tears to happy eyelids started,
+ Feeling, as by sudden flame,
+ Their cares and their sad hearts disparted,
+ Each old clinging sorrow dead.
+
+ All who ever guested there
+ To each other, murmuring, said:
+ "In this heart breathes purer air,
+ The thoughts that move across this sky
+ Have had a more mysterious birth,
+ Are lovelier, float more statelily
+ Than clouds across the sky of earth."
+ All guests within that heart's deep wood,
+ All friends together in that house,
+ High converse held with an aerial brood,
+ With spirit-folk kept delicate carouse;
+ None ever turned ungreeted from that door.
+ (Sorrow himself was guest a weary while,)
+ But yesterday when I passed by once more,
+ Met me no welcoming smile,
+ Nor any breath the unwavering branch to stir,
+ Silent each glad aerial chorister;
+ Three drowsy poppies brooded by the wall,
+ Lonely and tall.
+
+ Then, as I leaned above their crimson bloom,
+ The flower of day grew old and withered,
+ Night with a sigh sat down beside her loom
+ Winding her shuttle with a silver thread.
+ Suddenly from the starlit plains of air
+ Ethereal tumult, airy tempest blew,
+ Immortal music showering everywhere,
+ Flashed to the earth in an harmonious dew,
+ Leaped jubilant from cloud to craggy cloud,
+ Binding the moon in a melodious chain,
+ Storming the troubled stars, a luminous crowd,
+ Dropping in fiery streaks to earth again.
+ From out the windows of God's house
+ Faint as a far-echoing wave,
+ The angels, bending their calm brows,
+ Song for song in answer gave;
+ And faster than a falcon flies,
+ Thronging spirits in a cluster
+ Passed before my dazzled eyes,
+ Shedding an aerial lustre,
+ Burning with translucent fire,
+ Shaking from their dewy wings
+ Wild, ineffable desire
+ Of starry and immortal things,
+ Torturing with delicious pain
+ Past telling sweet, the bewildered heart,
+ Piercing the poor mortal brain
+ With beauty, a keen fiery dart.
+ Ah! Even as an oracle
+ Whose soul a god has breathed upon,
+ The beauteousness unbearable
+ Possessed me so all strength was gone.
+ Smitten by a barbed joy,
+ My sense with rapturous pain grew dim,
+ Joy pierced me as it would destroy.
+ Still higher rose the celestial hymn.
+ And then of all that starry throng
+ That streamed toward the upper sky,
+ One spirit darted down again,
+ And stood upon a bough near by.
+ "Even I unsealed thy sight," he said.
+ Alas, that shape I did not know,
+ For he was so transfigured,
+ So circled by the unearthly glow
+ Of his pulsating aureole;
+ I who so well the flesh had known
+ I did not know the soul.
+ With troubled eyes he bended down,
+ And all about me where I stood
+ Every blossom, every tree,
+ All the branches of that wood
+ Were trembling in their ecstasy.
+ They knew ere I had half divined.
+ But at his voice old dreams awoke
+ In dusty chambers of the mind,
+ And when again he softly spoke
+ With sudden tears mine eyes were wet.
+ And lowlier still he bent his head:
+ "Dost thou, dear friend, not know me yet?"
+ "Yes, for I know thy voice," I said.
+ "Dear Phantom, this immortal guise,
+ This disembodied self of thine,
+ Hath dazed mine unacquainted eyes.
+ Thou dweller on the steps divine,
+ Thou image of a god's desire,
+ Thou spark of the celestial flame
+ Art fashioned out of wind and fire
+ And elements without a name;
+ What sacred fingers mingled them
+ And trembled with a god's delight?
+ Thy body is a burning gem,
+ Thy limbs are chrysolite.
+ A glory hangs about thy head
+ For thou in thine immortal lot
+ In heaven's own light art garmented.
+ I know thee, yet I know thee not."
+ Then he, with shining eyes half shut,
+ Radiantly standing there:
+ "I did but change my leafy hut
+ For a mansion in the air,
+ The eerie wood, the enchanted ground,
+ The dim, bird-haunted glades we trod,
+ Grew all untuneful when I found
+ A dwelling in the heart of God.
+ I latched the gate at dawn of day,
+ I planted poppies by the door,
+ To His retreats I came away
+ And I shall wander thence no more.
+ The windy heights are all my love,
+ The spheral lights, the spheral chimes,
+ The trailing fires, the hosts that move
+ In concourse through sidereal climes;
+ I troop with the celestial choirs;
+ We have not any wish to be
+ Sad pilgrims, torn by sad desires,
+ Wayfarers of mortality.
+ The husk of flesh we have put by;
+ The dark seeds planted in the earth
+ Have blossomed in the upper sky,
+ In airy gardens have new birth."
+
+ There did he make an end, for O
+ Those spirits, singing, darted by again,
+ And at the showering sound he trembled so
+ I saw his earthly dalliance gave him pain,
+ And cried in sorrow, "O my friend, farewell!
+ Now from the luminous, paradisal bands,
+ Gabriel, Israfel, Ithuriel,
+ Beckon to you with their exulting hands."
+
+
+
+
+THE WITHERED LEAF, THE FADED FLOWER BE MINE
+
+
+ The withered leaf, the faded flower be mine,
+ The broken shrine,
+ All things that knowing beauty for a day
+ Have passed away
+ To dwell in the illimitable wood
+ Of quietude,
+ Undying, radiant, young,
+ Passed years among.
+
+ No blighting wind upon their beauty blows,
+ The altar glows
+ With flames unquenchable and bright
+ By day, by night;
+ Secure from envious time's deflowering breath
+ They know no death,
+ But silently, imperishably fair,
+ Grow lovelier there.
+
+ He who adores too much the impending hour,
+ The budding flower,
+ Who knows not with what dyes an hour that's dead
+ Is garmented,
+ Who walks with glimmering shapes companionless,
+ He cannot guess
+ With how great love and thankfulness I praise
+ The yesterdays.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+CUTHBERT WRIGHT
+
+
+
+
+THE END OF IT
+
+
+ We met, and on the decorous drive touched hands,
+ "Good-bye; a pleasant trip to you," I said.
+ The sunlight slept upon the still uplands,
+ Your figure fading in the dusty red
+ I watched awhile, then turned with casual face
+ To where a torrent glimmered down a glade,
+ No human voice troubled the lovely place,
+ Only the fall a cruel music made.
+
+ A time I lay and marked with curious stare
+ The keen sun-lances quiver on the lawn,
+ And thought on shrines all voiceless now and bare,
+ The holy genius of their boughs withdrawn,
+ Till with hoarse cry the train that you were on
+ Stabbed the indifference of the empty air ...
+
+ Then I awoke and knew that you were gone.
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW PLATONIST
+
+_Circa 1640_
+
+
+ Our loves as flowers fall to dust;
+ The noblest singing hath an end;
+ No man to his own soul may trust,
+ Nor to the kind arms of his friend;
+ Yet have I glimpsed by lonely tree,
+ Bright baths of immortality.
+
+ My faultless teachers bid me fare
+ The cypress path of blood and tears,
+ Treading the thorny wold to where
+ The painful Cross of Christ appears;
+ 'Twas on another, sunnier hill
+ I met you first, my miracle.
+
+ The painted windows burn and flame
+ Up through the music-haunted air;
+ These were my gods--and then you came
+ With flowers crowned and sun-kissed hair,
+ Making this northern river seem
+ Some laughter-girdled Grecian stream.
+
+ When the fierce foeman of our race
+ Marshals his lords of lust and pride,
+ You spring within a moment's space,
+ Full-armed and smiling to my side;
+ O golden heart! The love you gave me
+ Alone has saved and yet will save me.
+
+ Perchance we have no perfect city
+ Beyond the wrack of these our wars,
+ Till Death alone in sacred pity
+ Wash with long sleep our wounds and scars;
+ So much the more I praise in measure
+ The generous gods for you, my treasure.
+
+
+
+
+THE ROOM OVER THE RIVER
+
+
+ Good-night, my love, good-night;
+ The wan moon holds her lantern high,
+ And softly threads with nodding light
+ The violet posterns of the sky,
+ Below, the tides run swift and bright
+ Into the sea.
+
+ Odours and sounds come in to us,
+ Faint with the passion of this night,
+ One little dream hangs luminous
+ Above you in the scented light;
+ Roses and mist, stars and bright dew
+ Draw down to you.
+
+ How often in the dewy brake,
+ I've heard above the sighing weirs,
+ The night-bird singing for your sake
+ His lonely song of love and tears;
+ He too, sad heart, hath turned to rest,
+ And sleep is best.
+
+ Flower of my soul! Let us be true
+ To youth and love and all delight,
+ Clean and refreshed and one with you
+ I would be ever as to-night,
+ And heed not what the day will bring,
+ Nor anything.
+
+ And now the moon is safe away,
+ Far off her carriage lampions flare,
+ Lost in the sunken roads of day,
+ They vanish in the icy air.
+ Good-night, my love, good-night,
+ Good-night.
+
+
+
+
+THE FIDDLER
+
+
+ Once more I thought I heard him plain,
+ That unseen fiddler in the lane,
+ Under the timid twilight moon,
+ Playing his visionary strain.
+
+ No other soul was in the place
+ As up the hill I came apace;
+ Though once I heard him every day,
+ I never once have seen his face.
+
+ It was my immemorial year,
+ When rhymes came fast and blood beat clear;
+ He too, perchance, was then alive,
+ Now separate ghosts, we wander here.
+
+ Sometimes his ghostly rondelay
+ Broke on my dream at dawn of day,
+ And through my open window stole
+ The perfumed marvel of the May.
+
+ Sometimes in midnight lanes I heard
+ The twitter of a darkling bird,
+ As hidden from the ashen moon,
+ The pathos of his music stirred.
+
+ O happy time! How goodly seemed
+ The dauntless timeless dream I dreamed,
+ Those dear imaginary sins,
+ The joys that in one torrent streamed.
+
+ When moon and stars go out for aye,
+ And I am dead and castaway,
+ This autumn city I have loved
+ Will know me not, but he will stay.
+
+ In faded suburbs he will play.
+ Some other boy's brief morn away,
+ Till sapphire windows palely burn
+ Amid the undefeated gray.
+
+ And yet--sometimes I seem to know
+ I shall not 'scape his phantom bow;
+ More paramount than death or pain,
+ This ghost will follow where I go.
+
+ In some well-kept untroubled hell
+ Where frustrate souls like mine may dwell,
+ I shall look up and hear his note
+ Coming across the asphodel.
+
+ No shades will gather at his tune
+ To dance their ghostly rigadoon,
+ Only that lonely voice will cleave
+ The everlasting afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+FALSTAFF'S PAGE
+
+_To Reginald Sheffield_
+
+
+ In blaze of curls and cowslip-colored coat
+ He pranks a way before the wheezing Knight.
+ Tall Windsor shows no blossom like this wight
+ By park or sedgy pool or bearded moat;
+ A skylark burbles in that milk-white throat,
+ And I have heard him down a singing stream,
+ Ere the brute morn shattered my happy dream
+ Upon the sill, and weeping I awoke.
+
+ We had a music once; a poesie
+ Sweet as a maiden, lissome as this lad,
+ Full of rich merriment and gentle joy;
+
+ That other England lives and laughs in thee,
+ A peal of morris-music, blithe and glad,
+ Thou spray of bloom! Thou flower of a boy!
+
+
+
+
+A DULL SUNDAY
+
+(_After Debussy_)
+
+
+ It has been a long day,
+ A long, long day;
+ And now in floods of twilight,
+ In long green waves of sunset softly flowing,
+ Evening.
+ It is evening over the great towns,
+ It is evening in our hearts.
+
+ And though the last frail tendrils
+ And flowers of incense
+ Have long ago uncurled themselves around
+ The cynical Cathedral,
+ I hear the thin white voices of children,
+ Little girls and little boys,
+ Calling the name of Jesus
+ And His most Sacred Heart,
+ Singing about a kind of parish heaven,
+ A little walled city, all golden and lilac,
+ Like the one seen by Francois Villon's mother
+ In an old, bituminous, smoke-bitten painting
+ Of the Middle Ages.
+
+ And in this faith she wished to live and die.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Transcriber's Note: Untitled poems whose titles are omitted in the body
+of the text as originally published have had their conventional "first
+line" titles (as seen in the table of contents) added to the body of this
+transcription. They are enclosed in square brackets as an indication to
+the reader.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eight Harvard Poets, by
+E. Estlin Cummings and S. Foster Damon and J. R. Dos Passos and Robert Hillyer and R. S. Mitchell
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