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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79277 ***
+
+
+
+
+MOODS
+
+
+
+
+  MOODS
+
+  _Prose Poems
+  by
+  Mercedes de Acosta_
+
+  [Illustration]
+
+  NEW YORK
+  MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
+  1919
+
+
+
+
+  COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
+  MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                    PAGE
+
+  MEMORY              3
+
+  FAITH               5
+
+  LOVE                7
+
+  DISGUST            10
+
+  JOY                13
+
+  DESPAIR            16
+
+  TENDERNESS         18
+
+  HURT FEELINGS      22
+
+  WEARINESS          24
+
+  OPPORTUNITY        26
+
+  TIME               28
+
+  REVELATION         31
+
+  FINDING GOD        34
+
+  BRAINSTORM         38
+
+  PEACE              41
+
+  TWILIGHT DREAMS    44
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+There is a happy gift revealed in these little pastels, vignettes, or
+whatever one wishes to name such fragments that Miss de Acosta has
+written and which refuse to be catalogued and classified. They stand
+out in one’s reading in refreshing contrast to many opaque books of
+verse. They are not poetry; but they are the most singable prose, and
+they have a haunting quality, a breath of mystery, as though a ghost
+walked in a garden. They are strange, but they are human too; for if
+Miss de Acosta has anything it is a belief in, and an understanding
+of, her fellow human beings. In the little picture of the tired woman
+in the subway she shows with what feeling her heart is charged; and in
+the fragment of the studio, the climax is deftly approached. Brief as
+these glimpses of human experience are, they leave one with a sense
+of finality. It is as though a door were suddenly opened, or a window
+quickly raised--and then as suddenly closed again. But one has seen the
+room in its entirety, and the interior has been photographed on the
+brain.
+
+Miss de Acosta, who comes forward here with her first volume, bears
+promise of even finer achievement. I like the perfume of these flowers.
+And I like her directness, her obvious sincerity, her passion for the
+truth as Life reveals it to her, and her endeavor to give the reader a
+swift, vivid picture. She may go very far.
+
+  CHARLES HANSON TOWNE.
+
+
+
+
+MEMORY
+
+
+    Do you know I am living tonight in a
+    cloud of memory?
+    I, who always preach to you of looking
+    forward, am sitting here silently looking
+    backward and tearing the veil from off
+    the dead faces of the past.
+
+    Memory is a strange thing, so poignant and
+    alive in its insistence, so dead and
+    lifeless in its reality, so cruel and
+    portentous in its regrets.
+
+    It is curious how, merely in the brain,
+    wide vistas of recollection can be opened,
+    and whole pictures of the past stretch
+    before us by simply recalling the touch
+    of a hand, by the stirring of a soft
+    breath of wind, by a sad prolonged
+    street cry, or by the heavy atmospheric
+    pressure of a warm summer’s night.
+
+    Sometimes it is a strain of music across
+    far waters that brings back long-distant
+    years; again it is the odor of a box suddenly
+    opened, which gives forth the fragrance
+    of violets or rose leaves long since
+    dead and which instantly brings a tug
+    at the heart strings and fills the throat
+    with burning tears.
+
+    It seems to me a comparatively easy thing
+    to suppress our memories during the day, when
+    a host of things come clamoring and crowding
+    for us to accomplish.
+
+    But the past, with its sad, tragic eyes and
+    fantastic shapes, its shrill, melancholy wails
+    and dear, dead voices, its heavily perfumed
+    flowers, its vibrating, pulsing music, its
+    soft, caressing touches and maddening, heart-rending
+    regrets--these all come filing
+    back one by one and play upon the soul
+    and make the lips turn white....
+          Sometimes at night!
+
+
+
+
+FAITH
+
+
+    I think it does not matter so much what we believe
+    as what we _want_ to believe,--the desire seems
+    to me greater than the accomplishment.
+
+    They say “men live by hope,” but I feel men must
+    live by faith or else they perish.
+    Or perhaps faith and hope are very closely akin--
+    one being the Touch of God, and the other being
+    the Breath of a Divine Perfume He has tossed
+    out upon the world, so that man might still
+    find a smile where there seemed only to be tears.
+
+    Today I do not feel that I am groping my way
+    as I have heretofore done, but a strange exaltation
+    is in me as though a star had caught in my hair,
+    or as if a piece of the moon had come down and
+    brushed against my cheek.
+
+    I wonder could you understand if I told you why?
+
+    If I tell you that for days and nights my soul
+    has been writhing in a corner of darkness,--
+    oppressed by a thousand apprehensions and crushed
+    by the weight of fear?
+    Until today no light has come its way and yet
+    do you know that in that solitude and stillness
+    I have been conscious of a little something
+    stirring in me and trying to make me believe
+    that help _would_ come?
+    But the dreariness came again and strange
+    grotesque shapes pressed about me and bade
+    me let go and sink and sink....
+
+    Then I lay despairing and could not move
+    or raise my eyes--but suddenly, when
+    my faith had almost ceased to be....
+
+    God put out His Hand and, stooping down--touched me!
+
+
+
+
+LOVE
+
+
+    It seems absurd I did not recognize it at once,
+    but at first my thoughts were indefinite
+    and I did not know by what name to call it.
+    I had always looked upon it as something
+    so much more personal and individual, and
+    coming this way as it did, it seemed new and
+    strange. It came to me in the subway.
+    I remember it had been raining and as I
+    entered the train I remarked to myself on
+    the hideous smell of damp clothing and
+    dripping umbrellas. At first the crowd was
+    oppressive; I who hate crowds so, shrank
+    a little and tried to gain my balance. It
+    was just then the peculiar thing happened....
+
+    Suddenly, in spite of the fact that I was
+    pushed and pulled here and there I did not
+    seem to mind. A man rose giving me a seat,
+    and as I sank into it and the crowds thinned
+    out at a station, I looked across the train
+    and saw a woman dozing in the corner. Her
+    face was worn, white and pinched;
+    her clothes dirty and her hat sliding off.
+
+    Every time the train swayed her head lurched
+    forward, each second seeming to assume a more
+    uncomfortable position. I looked at her
+    pathetic face and longed with all my heart
+    to put her tired head upon my shoulder,
+    taking my coat and wrapping it around her
+    emaciated form.
+
+    Then I looked down the train and saw an old man;
+    he had apparently been to the hospital, because
+    his head was bandaged and his face contracted
+    from time to time in pain. He gazed slyly
+    about, and when he thought no one was looking
+    he spat upon the floor between his legs.
+    Ordinarily I should have wanted to kill
+    him for it, but then, oddly enough, I felt
+    no disgust but only a great pity and sympathy
+    for him.
+
+    A small child opposite was screaming shrilly
+    and every few seconds licking the window pane,
+    while his parents fought and argued with each
+    other beside him. I wanted to take their hands
+    and tell them not to quarrel and I longed to
+    take the child on my lap; cuddling it to me
+    and distracting it from the soiled window pane.
+
+    Then as I gazed at all the faces along the seats
+    a great understanding and sympathy for them sprang
+    up within me. I wished I could take them by
+    the hand one by one out into the sunlight, giving
+    them what they most desired, and then be able to
+    rejoice at their good fortune in which I would
+    share no part.
+    I forgot myself completely and a spirit of
+    exaltation came to me such as I had never
+    experienced before. The subway ceased to smell
+    and upon each face and in my heart I seemed to
+    discern a great light.
+    I held my breath while I felt as if I were being
+    carried on by some unknown harmony and rhythm;
+    I was sure that all the eyes in the train had
+    grown kindly and that no one harbored evil in
+    his heart.
+
+    Before the feeling faded away--as I knew it would--
+    and left me again my same selfish and miserable
+    self, I longed to ascertain what this sublime
+    mood could be. As I wondered, back from my brain
+    and all the way down to my heart I heard the
+    words beating and hammering my answer----
+
+    “This is love!” they cried.
+
+
+
+
+DISGUST
+
+
+    Do you remember the day I left your house so
+    suddenly and rushed out on the street?
+    Or perhaps you do not recall it and did not
+    remark my absence,--you had so many people there,
+    and your house was fragrant with such quantities
+    of flowers, and every one seemed to pretend at being
+    gay, even if he were not.
+
+    And I? I left it all behind me because I heard
+    you boasting in such a light-hearted way of all we
+    had dreamed of and loved so well.
+
+    My heart trembled at your careless words and I
+    closed my ears and rushed out before you should have
+    killed my last illusion and made me hate you.
+    Your house, which a few moments before seemed gay
+    and bright, suddenly flung from out its windows the
+    flag of hypocrisy, and became meaningless and empty.
+
+    My head ached; and I hurried aimlessly along the
+    street peering into the faces of the passers-by,
+    thinking that in humanity I should find a solace and
+    an answer.... But they only pushed and knocked against
+    me and not one spirit spoke to me.
+
+    Then I went into the museum and thought that there
+    with art I could find revelation and be comforted.
+    So I walked through the galleries, but I was followed
+    unendingly by the same unsparing mob that
+    jostled me in the streets and suspicious guards
+    glared at me while all around hung low rows
+    of portraits in heterogeneous fashion which, melting
+    into one another, lost their personality and meant
+    nothing to me.
+
+    So I dragged myself out again into the spring
+    air and walked wearily toward the park. There,
+    reaching a bench, I sank down and thought
+    at last I could relax undisturbed.
+    But a drunken man came and sat beside
+    me and nudged my elbow, so I rose and moved
+    away and wondered if there were any place
+    in the whole wide world where one could be
+    really alone and unimbittered.
+
+    Friendship, art and all the things I cherished
+    seemed to have failed me.
+    Suddenly I thought of death!
+
+    Then, meditating on the last long sleep, a
+    sense of great peace and the solitude I
+    had longed for came over me....
+
+    But only for a brief instant, because I
+    remembered with anguish that, even in
+    death, one could not be alone; and the
+    thought of overcrowded and congested
+    cemeteries filled my soul with horror;
+    and I shuddered!
+
+
+
+
+JOY
+
+
+    I looked out of the window at the snow
+    on the ground and something in the
+    sunlight made me throw aside my books
+    and go out.
+
+    I do not recall how I reached there,
+    but I found myself in the heart of the
+    park, and maybe because it was so
+    early, or I do not know quite why,--
+    it seemed empty,--I looked across the
+    white stretch of glistening snow and
+    my heart beat with joy at being alone.
+    Suddenly something very odd happened to me:
+
+    Everything and everyone in my life
+    seemed to drop away from me; I felt
+    as though my spirit had been freed
+    and as if no harm could ever come
+    to me again.
+
+    So I laughed and blew my breath out
+    in the cold air and waved it good-bye,
+    and I shouted aloud and tossed the
+    snow from side to side with my feet.
+    I knew you would be waiting for me and
+    be angry, but that and all things else
+    seemed very remote and far away, so
+    I dismissed it from my mind and did not
+    think of it again.
+
+    Then I pretended I was Columbus discovering
+    America and I called out “land ahead.”
+    But after, I changed and pretended I was
+    Jeanne d’Arc leading the French army,
+    and all the while sang the Marseillaise
+    because it thrilled me so and I waved my
+    arms and danced.
+
+    Then I decided to be the wind, and I
+    ran as fast as I could and fell down
+    in the snow, jumped up again and laughed
+    some more.
+
+    I threw kisses and made faces at the sun
+    and I tried to catch the little diamonds
+    that gleamed on the snow,--but each one
+    lured me on to another, until it seemed
+    like an eternal mirage,--so I stood still,
+    drew a long breath and thanked God for Life!
+
+    Then as I walked on I felt that I possessed
+    everything, because I had youth, health
+    and ambition.
+
+    And the whole world seemed to be stretching
+    out its alluring hands before me with
+    wonderful rose-tipped fingers!
+
+
+
+
+DESPAIR
+
+
+    One day I said, “There is no such thing as
+    love,” and something closed up within
+    me; and although I looked upon people
+    I knew I did not see them. Some horrible
+    apprehension seemed to grip at my heart
+    with ice-boned hands. I felt nauseated
+    and sick.
+
+    I went home and closed my door and, for
+    the first time in my life, threw my
+    books into a corner and broke my pens
+    and pencils.
+
+    After that outburst I sat down and tried
+    to think, but all my thoughts seemed
+    draped in long garbs of black crepe that,
+    stealing in and out through my mind like
+    phantoms on tiptoe, gave me no peace.
+
+    I thought what a failure my life had been
+    and I believed every one had deserted me.
+    I longed to die!
+
+    I saw your roses, but I threw them
+    on the floor and stepped on them because
+    they seemed fresh and gay; and a thousand
+    sad thoughts rushed through my mind, while
+    I felt as if I were being oppressed by
+    all the nightmares of the world and beating
+    my soul against a closed iron door.
+
+    Then I remembered that people said “tears soothe
+    the heart;” so I prayed to be allowed to weep,
+    but instantly cursed myself for praying
+    and cried aloud, “There is no God!”
+
+    And all night long I sat in darkness, staring
+    into space with clenched hands, repeating the
+    words over and over again, “No love, no hope”--
+    “No love, no hope”....
+
+
+
+
+TENDERNESS
+
+
+    They always said of her that she was selfish
+    and spoiled and that, although she lived in a
+    big house and had everything in the world
+    money could buy, no one really cared about her
+    for herself.
+
+    They admitted she had beauty, but they said her
+    face was hard and bitter and that her only
+    power lay in her worldly prosperity, which had
+    a certain empty, insincere following,--but
+    that she had no real influence because she did
+    not have a heart and no one loved her.
+
+    I used to hear them talking about her rudeness
+    and her detached indifference, and they seemed
+    to excite themselves greatly about her,
+    and grow angry and shrug their shoulders;
+    then they would always end by thanking God
+    they were not like her.
+
+    After these discussions--in which I took no
+    part--I always went home and thought about her.
+
+    And then one day I went to hear Kreisler play.
+    I think he played more exquisitely than I had
+    ever heard him before; perhaps it was the
+    music of Beethoven that moved me so or,
+    more likely, the mingling of both their spirits
+    that tore so plaintively at my soul.
+
+    Whatever the cause, I felt a great spell upon me,
+    and I saw nothing and was not conscious where
+    I was until, suddenly and accidentally, my eyes
+    fell upon her face; I was brought back to my
+    surroundings,--and all the things I had heard
+    about her came to me, and went crowding through
+    my mind.
+
+    She was not alone in the box, although she
+    sat apart in a corner, separated from the
+    other people as it seemed to me she always
+    was. She was leaning a bit forward with
+    her hands clasping her knees, her lips a
+    trifle apart and seeming singularly pale;
+    but what I noticed most was the expression
+    in her eyes, which had an entreaty and a
+    pathos in them I had never seen in any face
+    before,--and her mouth was strangely soft with a
+    look of sweetness about its corners.
+
+    She was not looking at Kreisler, but gazing out
+    before her as though at something we others could
+    not see, and I was filled with a peculiar sensation
+    that she understood and felt things which were remote
+    from other people.
+
+    Then I looked away because somehow I felt as if
+    I were spying at her with her mask off, and
+    looking upon her soul!
+
+    The violin stopped and, as the last notes vibrated
+    and died away and were swallowed up in the applause,
+    I looked at her again.
+
+    Once more the hard look was on her face and the
+    bitter pain in her eyes.
+    I saw the people she was with exchange a casual
+    remark with her, and then draw a little aside
+    and talk among themselves.
+
+    All at once a great wave of tenderness came over me,
+    and I longed with sudden eagerness to put my arms
+    about her and draw her to me. I wanted to tell
+    her not to be lonely and sad and bitter, because
+    I knew she was not all they said she was, and all
+    they had made her with their idle talk.
+
+    I wanted to hold her hand and tell her I understood
+    and sympathized with her, and that I knew she only
+    seemed all the things they said, simply because
+    no one ever kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+HURT FEELINGS
+
+
+    You remember of course the day I acted so
+    queerly in your studio?
+    How happy we were going up the stairs, and how
+    we laughed and vowed it would be the most wonderful
+    day we had ever spent!
+
+    “The day of days,” you called it.
+
+    And do you remember how I tripped and
+    dropped the tea and sugar packages, and you dropped the cake in
+    an effort to steady me--and how we sat down on the
+    steps and laughed and laughed as though it was the
+    funniest thing in the whole wide world?
+
+    And then in the corridor you would not let me open
+    the door until you had kissed my hands.
+
+    But as soon as we were in the studio something
+    seemed to snap within me, my mood changed entirely
+    and I ceased to laugh; I put the packages on the table
+    and was very quiet.
+
+    Of course you thought I had one of my old-time
+    headaches, and you took out that absurd headache
+    cologne--which never does the slightest bit of good--
+    and insisted upon spraying it over me.
+
+    And you tried to make me laugh again and kissed my
+    neck, but in spite of the fact that you looked like
+    an injured little child, I stood looking out of the
+    window and, when you asked me what was the
+    matter, I merely replied “nothing.”
+
+    Then in the face of all your desperate entreaties
+    I left the studio, and went down the stairs out into
+    the street....
+
+    I am sorry now I did it and, although I
+    never meant to tell you the reason--now,
+    because it all seems so trivial, I think
+    I shall:
+
+    Do you remember how I stopped laughing the
+    instant you opened the door?
+    That was because I noticed at once the
+    little plant I gave you was placed in a
+    dark corner, withered and dead.
+
+
+
+
+WEARINESS
+
+
+    No, I do not want to dance tonight,
+    nor talk nor play.
+    You think I am foolish because I
+    want to sit here and stare into the
+    night? I wonder!
+    You say I am lazy?
+    I wonder at that too. Well, no matter.
+
+    You go and dance and leave me here
+    alone; then when you return you will
+    tell me what you have accomplished by
+    your dancing, and if you feel any the
+    happier for it,--but no, do not bother--
+    I think I shall be too tired even to listen.
+
+    It is true you will be exercising
+    your legs, but I shall sit here
+    and travel far and wide among the stars--
+    and exercise my soul.
+
+    Do you know my body seems strangely
+    lax tonight?
+    I think I must be quite exhausted;
+    and I am sure that I could sit here
+    for years and years and never move
+    a muscle or enter into life at all again.
+    So tired am I.
+
+    Perhaps, if I sit here long enough,
+    all the generations of the future will come
+    and tell me their secrets because they
+    will know I should be far too weary
+    ever to repeat them.
+
+
+
+
+OPPORTUNITY
+
+
+    It is strange how seldom people can judge
+    the psychological moment to reach forth
+    their hands and grasp what they desire.
+    How often does the gardener in the field of
+    life pick the rose before it has really
+    opened or just a little too late, when
+    it has already commenced to fade and drop
+    its petals,--but how divinely fortunate
+    is the one who plucks it just at the right
+    moment and, as a reward, not only has the
+    rose, but very often with it a tiny, glistening,
+    jewelled drop of dew!
+
+    We cannot say that this is merely chance,
+    but rather a God-like bit of intuition
+    that is wound about and entwined in some
+    souls.
+
+    Too often in our feebleness we say opportunity
+    makes us what we are; and we do not realize our
+    strength or we should say that _we_ will make
+    opportunity for that which we wish to be!
+
+    I feel that opportunity is something which grows
+    often and plentifully in the lives of some but,
+    like the grass beneath our feet, it is very
+    seldom cultivated and springs up noiselessly
+    and silently so that we do not notice it.
+
+    Most of us, when we wish to do something very
+    much or attain a great desire, expect the
+    moment for fulfillment to come heralded with
+    blasts of trumpets--and when it does not
+    come that way, but through an unpretentious
+    medium, we cannot grasp its significance;
+    and so we pass it by....
+
+    The wise soul is he who expects and seeks
+    opportunity in all places--not graspingly
+    or shrewdly, but silently and with great
+    faith; and who knows and comprehends the
+    law that not always must we go out to seek
+    it, but perhaps, while merely contemplating
+    the stars, will we gain force--and so it
+    will come to us.
+
+    Not too obviously, perhaps, but with an interior
+    illumination that will give us the Vision
+    and show us the path onward.
+
+
+
+
+TIME
+
+
+    Time and space mean very little to me today.
+    I am sitting here thinking of ten years ago
+    and marvelling because it seems so close and so
+    little forgotten,--infinitely nearer than those
+    moments of even yesterday, which seem already remote and distant.
+
+    How strange time is!
+
+    Do you know I often fancy that old Father Time
+    holds in his hand some musical instrument? Maybe
+    a harp or a lyre--instead of a scythe as he is
+    always depicted--and he plays and plays and
+    plays ... mostly very low; and then things
+    that occurred only yesterday seem vague, almost
+    forgotten and far away.
+
+    But sometimes he sees our hearts craving to recall
+    vividly some face, to live over again some
+    moment, or to hear once more an almost forgotten
+    echo--and then he takes compassion upon us and
+    he plays madly and loudly, and suddenly, as though
+    in a vision, we witness departed moments; or we
+    see a face or hear a voice close beside us, and
+    so real are they, that we have but to stretch out
+    our hands to touch and caress them, or turn
+    our heads to hear the cadence of a voice rise from
+    out the long-dead past.
+
+    Have you noticed how vividly old people recall
+    their childhood?
+
+    Ah, that is because Father Time, being so old
+    himself, has a profound attraction for old age,
+    based on reciprocal qualities which he knows them
+    to share in common with him.
+
+    So of course he loves them best and, realizing
+    that he has no earthly future to offer them, he
+    draws down his musical instrument and plays louder
+    and louder--and lo! they can sit for hours at
+    a time, slowly rocking backward and forward, and
+    all the while they are living over again some
+    cherished moment and hearing sweet, enchanted music.
+
+    And, if you listen closely during the silent
+    intervals between the squeaking and rocking of
+    their chairs, I am sure you will hear them saying
+    softly to themselves as they nod their heads slowly
+    to and fro--
+          “Why, it all seems only yesterday!”
+
+
+
+
+REVELATION
+
+
+    It seems to me that life is absolutely
+    futile and incomplete until we realize that
+    no matter what we are doing, or whither
+    going, it is because of some preconceived
+    reason; and that in the end, when we have
+    reached the last turning of the road and
+    come to lay down our wearying burdens, no
+    matter what our regrets through life may have
+    been--we will know and fully comprehend
+    that the tending of our footsteps this or
+    that way was merely the working out of a
+    great end.
+
+    The orientation of our views is so limited
+    and circumscribed that, when something comes
+    to us which we have not desired, we can
+    only feel the bearing down of a cruel fate
+    upon our heads. And too often we toss those
+    same heads back in stubborn despair and grind
+    our teeth in the gale of what must be--
+    thereby losing our balance and sense of what
+    _might_ be had we the courage to entwine
+    our strength with that of the Infinite!
+
+    Many times the inveiglement of an idea--a set
+    idea which perhaps we have nourished in our
+    hearts for days--will keep us from all
+    realization of the good we might gain by a
+    different shaping of our lives from that
+    which we had dreamed.
+
+    To some of us the revelation never comes;
+    and we go on pursuing life with our noses
+    pressed to the ground, without a glimmer
+    of comprehension of the great and superfine
+    machine which marks out and registers our lives.
+
+    To others, who are perhaps more worthy, the
+    revelation _does_ come, and usually during or
+    after our darkest hours.
+    It is indeed a proof of the Divine that we should
+    receive light after darkness!
+
+    To these same it is strange how sometimes
+    it will come slowly like the rising of the
+    moon, and then again quickly as a flood
+    of sunlight after a darkening cloud has passed.
+
+    In the sad or desperate moments of our lives
+    when indeed we see nothing to go on for--
+    when we are torn and spent and there seems
+    no end to the coursing of the blood from
+    out our hearts--it is then that the knowledge
+    in a flash comes to us, that there _must_
+    be a reason, and that we could not be made
+    to suffer so without an ultimate beneficial
+    purpose.
+
+    And so all striving seems puerile and we cease
+    to beat our wings against the cage, lift our
+    torn hearts instead to the sweet rain of
+    heaven and ask to see the star that may guide us.
+
+    And, as small children who, seeing not, obey,
+    so we too, set forth; and, although unconsciously,
+    in our faith become as sages.
+
+
+
+
+FINDING GOD
+
+
+    I have been reading tonight a book on
+    science which, I think, tends to
+    kill all spiritual hope and attributes
+    everything to the material; taking away
+    our dreams of miracles, crushing
+    our hopes in the Beyond and
+    tearing down the belief of a divine
+    intuition within us.
+    It explains all these things as springing
+    entirely from pathological causes and
+    seems to feed the intellect while
+    it starves the Soul.
+    I think so much has been said in this generation
+    about science, so much has been questioned and
+    delved into about it that I cannot help
+    feeling that science will eventually encompass
+    and satiate the world--that is, if we let it
+    engulf us completely and turn our hearts and
+    souls into rocks and machines; and insist in
+    believing that the still silent voice within
+    us, which we once called God, is merely the
+    emotion caused by a craving for food or sleep
+    or air, or some other physical necessity--
+    which will cease when we last close these
+    weary eyes of ours.
+
+    It is indeed true to call this the age of science
+    and “The Iron Age,” for what could tend to make
+    men’s hearts more thoroughly iron than to tell
+    them to stifle and kill all their emotions and
+    that we are, after all, only a part of the scheme
+    of the Whole, and must not look forward because
+    there is no Beyond?
+
+    “Where there is no vision the people perish.”
+    So in this age when men seek and in answer
+    find only a golden frame--with no color
+    picture inside to brighten the rooms of life--
+    but instead cold dismal facts, perhaps then
+    it is well that thousands of these poor
+    men should be killed off and not taste the bitter
+    poison to the end.
+
+    And yet, is it not the irony of fate that
+    science again with its machine guns, its
+    poisoned gas and all other improved and
+    advanced diabolical warfare should be the
+    hand to slay them?
+
+    Men’s ears that can only listen to the roar
+    of machinery, cannot hear the song of the
+    birds; men’s bodies and feet that are so well
+    clothed, cannot feel the clay of the earth nor
+    the poetry of the wind and sun on their bodies;
+    men’s eyes that are tired straining in the
+    research room or the laboratory cannot see the
+    stars, and men’s hearts that lead themselves into
+    believing that from the decay of these poor
+    bodies there is no future, cannot see God.
+
+    And by these words I do not mean to refute
+    the great and everlasting good that science
+    has done for the world, nor do I forget the
+    vast progress for the benefit of humanity in
+    surgery, hygiene and medicine, and the advancement
+    toward comfort, economy of time and manual labor
+    which it has donated to us by the efforts and
+    sacrifices of wonderful and brave men.
+
+    To all those who have toiled and still have been
+    able to Believe, I should like to write a eulogy.
+
+    But it is to those who, in their search in science,
+    have lost their ideal and come to live so scientifically
+    that their souls, as it were, have dried up and left
+    only the workings of their brains--
+    it is from these, that I would turn my face away.
+
+    To live _really_ it is impossible to live scientifically.
+    We must live by the emotions to survive and find
+    God, because it is only by and through the emotions
+    that we truly palpitate and feel ... and reaching
+    out we extend our hands and lean far into the Vast
+    Space of the Infinite!
+
+
+
+
+BRAINSTORM
+
+
+    How absurd people are! As if anyone could ever
+    understand anyone else! I am so tired of people
+    always trying to understand me, when I hold no
+    understanding of myself. Tonight I have no faith
+    and in my brain there are chaos and whirlwinds.
+    I have ceased to believe in God or man.
+
+    Do you remember when I used to talk to you of ideals
+    and truth and all such false things? That was when
+    I was quite mad, but tonight I am _sane_; sane and
+    weary of all control and pretenses. I am tired of
+    being polite, of talking low when I wish to shout, of
+    laughing when I want to cry. I am tired of convention
+    and going to dinners and saying “What a charming party
+    this is” when all the while I should like to tear the
+    table-cloth off and smash up the best china.
+
+    I am tired of shuffling feet, ever struggling onward
+    and leading nowhere. I am tired of weak vacillating
+    people and those who do not know real love--Love is
+    no love at all where for its sake one is not willing
+    to commit a crime. But I am also tired of loving and
+    of being loved--it seems to be the dark ages since
+    I spoke to you of love--I am tired of lies and truth--
+    more tired of truth since it only raises hopes and in the end fails.
+    How futile all these things are, how misguiding and tragically frail!
+
+    If Life only had long hair so that I might run my hand
+    through it and tear it from its roots! If I could
+    only be an earthquake and shake the very civilization
+    of life! Civilization, what a farce! As if there
+    existed any such thing. I wish I could be a hurricane
+    and crush down everything in my way, or a maddening
+    thunderstorm, with its flashes of blood and fire across the sky....
+    A thousand dead bodies tonight might lie in my way
+    and I should like to walk over them and, I wish that
+    Life itself were a strip of gauze so that I might tear
+    it asunder and throw it to the winds!
+
+    Chaotic wild thoughts are running through my brain,
+    but mostly darkness and a mad desire to end it all.
+    I am so very tired of Life, but most of all I am tired
+    of myself.
+    _Oh, My God_, let me break these chains....
+            I am so very tired of myself!
+
+
+
+
+PEACE
+
+
+    It had been such a warm day. Toward sunset
+    do you remember how we stole away to the
+    beach and after driving for some time we
+    finally came to the dunes, got out of the
+    motor and walked the rest of the way?
+
+    I can remember now how white the sand was
+    and how our feet sank in it and, when we
+    drew them out again it seemed to cover our
+    tracks leaving hardly any impression behind us.
+    I remember also how the long reeds sprang up
+    and almost hid you from view; then we began
+    to climb the dunes and all out of breath
+    we reached the top, and there below us lay
+    the beach, and the ocean spreading out from
+    it as far as we could see.
+
+    I recall catching my breath as I always do
+    when I again perceive the ocean after having
+    been away from it. It always seems to fill
+    me with such inexhaustible wonder and pours
+    into my soul a peculiar strength and power
+    to go on with the dull and terrible things
+    of life ... forcing me to finish and, at
+    the end, to conquer them.
+    I can see now the blueness of the water and
+    feel again the great stillness that seemed
+    to be about us. Over our left shoulder
+    back of us lay the inlet, with the sun shining
+    on it and causing it to dazzle like a steel
+    needle; and the long thin white beach--like
+    a golden thread--stretching from it and
+    finally seeming to trail off to nothing and
+    burying itself in the foam of the sea.
+
+    Do you remember how we lay there for ever so
+    long and neither of us said a word? Finally
+    the sun went down and we watched the sand
+    change from gold to red; the sky became violet
+    with little shadings of green and pink and
+    then suddenly--as if by magic--the ocean
+    became quite calm and a fascinating little
+    star appeared reflecting and twinkling on the inlet.
+
+    Back on the main land we watched the little
+    lights of the houses come out one by one;
+    in the twilight at first they were very faint
+    and pale, but after as the night stooped
+    down and crept upon us, they grew brighter and stronger.
+
+    And then for the first time you broke the silence;
+    turning to me you asked, “What are you feeling?”
+
+    I answered, “Peace.”
+
+
+
+
+TWILIGHT DREAMS
+
+
+    As I open the long windows and step out upon
+    the terrace, the presence of the mysterious
+    hour is upon me....
+    A strange undefined blue mist rises from the
+    earth and gently, like a magical veil, winds
+    itself around the trees and slowly rising,
+    presses its face against the sky as though to
+    peer into the eyes, and read the heart of the stars.
+
+    Fantastic trees dimly outlined, bend together
+    and whisper softly; suddenly I feel as though
+    the air were charged with all the wishes of the
+    world. Great and small, joyous and sad wishes,
+    all thrown out from the struggling desirous
+    heart of Life and, at twilight hour stealing
+    silently--some a little ashamed, some a little
+    proud--to nestle under the white moon--flowers
+    in hopes that some soul of the dead--which steal
+    about at twilight hour too--may be their friend
+    and help them to come true.
+
+    Timidly, and trembling a little from the embraces
+    of the mist, a tiny star shines out, while slowly
+    and reverently the darkness kneels down and kisses
+    the face of the earth.
+    A vast and deep silence has come over everything;
+    and I, with all else, find myself holding my
+    breath as I steal back into the room and sink into a chair.
+    Leaning back languidly I half close my eyes, while
+    far off I smell the salt and sadness of the sea....
+    Weirdly and ghostlike you creep in and, in my
+    twilight dreams, you come to me!
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Note:
+
+- Text that was in italics is enclosed in underscores (_italics_).
+
+- Text that was in small caps is in all caps (SMALL CAPS).
+
+- Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
+
+- Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following
+changes:
+
+  Page 11: “by the same upsparing” to “by the same unsparing”
+
+  Page 16: “my heart with ice boned” to “my heart with ice-boned”
+
+  Page 36: “to live so scentifically” to “to live so scientifically”
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79277 ***
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+      Moods | Project Gutenberg
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79277 ***</div>
+
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp45" style="max-width:100.0em;" id="cover">
+<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" id="img_images_cover.jpg">
+</figure>
+
+<h1 class="left">
+MOODS
+</h1>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter"></div>
+<p class="center muchlarger">MOODS</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Prose Poems<br>
+by<br>
+Mercedes de Acosta</i></p>
+<br><br>
+<figure class="figcenter illowp15" id="i_title" style="max-width: 28.3125em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+<br><br>
+<p class="center">NEW YORK</p>
+<p class="center larger">MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY</p>
+<p class="center">1919</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter"></div>
+<p class="center smaller"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1919, by</span></p>
+<p class="center">MOFFAT, YARD &amp; COMPANY</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">
+    CONTENTS
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<table class="autotable">
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdr"><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Memory</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#MEMORY">3</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Faith</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#FAITH">5</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Love</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#LOVE">7</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Disgust</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#DISGUST">10</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Joy</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#JOY">13</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Despair</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#DESPAIR">16</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Tenderness</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#TENDERNESS">18</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hurt Feelings</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#HURT_FEELINGS">22</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Weariness</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#WEARINESS">24</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Opportunity</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#OPPORTUNITY">26</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Time</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#TIME">28</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Revelation</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#REVELATION">31</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Finding God</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#FINDING_GOD">34</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Brainstorm</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#BRAINSTORM">38</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Peace</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#PEACE">41</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+<td class="tdl"></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Twilight Dreams</span></td>
+<td class="tdr"><a href="#TWILIGHT_DREAMS">44</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="INTRODUCTION">
+    INTRODUCTION
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>There is a happy gift revealed in these little
+pastels, vignettes, or whatever one wishes to name
+such fragments that Miss de Acosta has written
+and which refuse to be catalogued and classified.
+They stand out in one’s reading in refreshing
+contrast to many opaque books of verse.
+They are not poetry; but they are the most singable
+prose, and they have a haunting quality, a
+breath of mystery, as though a ghost walked in a
+garden. They are strange, but they are human
+too; for if Miss de Acosta has anything it is a
+belief in, and an understanding of, her fellow
+human beings. In the little picture of the tired
+woman in the subway she shows with what feeling
+her heart is charged; and in the fragment of
+the studio, the climax is deftly approached. Brief
+as these glimpses of human experience are, they
+leave one with a sense of finality. It is as though
+a door were suddenly opened, or a window
+quickly raised—and then as suddenly closed
+again. But one has seen the room in its entirety,
+and the interior has been photographed on the
+brain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p>
+
+<p>Miss de Acosta, who comes forward here with
+her first volume, bears promise of even finer
+achievement. I like the perfume of these flowers.
+And I like her directness, her obvious sincerity,
+her passion for the truth as Life reveals
+it to her, and her endeavor to give the reader a
+swift, vivid picture. She may go very far.</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+  <span class="smcap">Charles Hanson Towne.</span>
+</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="MEMORY">
+    MEMORY
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do you know I am living tonight in a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">cloud of memory?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I, who always preach to you of looking</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">forward, am sitting here silently looking</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">backward and tearing the veil from off</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the dead faces of the past.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Memory is a strange thing, so poignant and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">alive in its insistence, so dead and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lifeless in its reality, so cruel and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">portentous in its regrets.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It is curious how, merely in the brain,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">wide vistas of recollection can be opened,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and whole pictures of the past stretch</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">before us by simply recalling the touch</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of a hand, by the stirring of a soft</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">breath of wind, by a sad prolonged</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">street cry, or by the heavy atmospheric</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">pressure of a warm summer’s night.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Sometimes it is a strain of music across</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">far waters that brings back long-distant</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">years; again it is the odor of a box suddenly</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">opened, which gives forth the fragrance</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of violets or rose leaves long since</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">dead and which instantly brings a tug</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">at the heart strings and fills the throat</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">with burning tears.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It seems to me a comparatively easy thing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to suppress our memories during the day, when</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a host of things come clamoring and crowding</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">for us to accomplish.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">But the past, with its sad, tragic eyes and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">fantastic shapes, its shrill, melancholy wails</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and dear, dead voices, its heavily perfumed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">flowers, its vibrating, pulsing music, its</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">soft, caressing touches and maddening, heart-rending</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">regrets—these all come filing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">back one by one and play upon the soul</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and make the lips turn white....</div>
+      <div class="verse indent6">Sometimes at night!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="FAITH">
+    FAITH
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I think it does not matter so much what we believe</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">as what we <i>want</i> to believe,—the desire seems</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to me greater than the accomplishment.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">They say “men live by hope,” but I feel men must</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">live by faith or else they perish.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Or perhaps faith and hope are very closely akin—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">one being the Touch of God, and the other being</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the Breath of a Divine Perfume He has tossed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">out upon the world, so that man might still</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">find a smile where there seemed only to be tears.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Today I do not feel that I am groping my way</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">as I have heretofore done, but a strange exaltation</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">is in me as though a star had caught in my hair,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">or as if a piece of the moon had come down and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">brushed against my cheek.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I wonder could you understand if I told you why?</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">If I tell you that for days and nights my soul</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">has been writhing in a corner of darkness,—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">oppressed by a thousand apprehensions and crushed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">by the weight of fear?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Until today no light has come its way and yet</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">do you know that in that solitude and stillness</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I have been conscious of a little something</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">stirring in me and trying to make me believe</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that help <i>would</i> come?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But the dreariness came again and strange</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">grotesque shapes pressed about me and bade</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">me let go and sink and sink....</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then I lay despairing and could not move</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">or raise my eyes—but suddenly, when</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">my faith had almost ceased to be....</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">God put out His Hand and, stooping down—touched me!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="LOVE">
+    LOVE
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It seems absurd I did not recognize it at once,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">but at first my thoughts were indefinite</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I did not know by what name to call it.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I had always looked upon it as something</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">so much more personal and individual, and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">coming this way as it did, it seemed new and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">strange. It came to me in the subway.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I remember it had been raining and as I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">entered the train I remarked to myself on</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the hideous smell of damp clothing and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">dripping umbrellas. At first the crowd was</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">oppressive; I who hate crowds so, shrank</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a little and tried to gain my balance. It</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">was just then the peculiar thing happened....</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Suddenly, in spite of the fact that I was</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">pushed and pulled here and there I did not</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seem to mind. A man rose giving me a seat,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and as I sank into it and the crowds thinned</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">out at a station, I looked across the train</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and saw a woman dozing in the corner. Her</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">face was worn, white and pinched;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">her clothes dirty and her hat sliding off.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Every time the train swayed her head lurched</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">forward, each second seeming to assume a more</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">uncomfortable position. I looked at her</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">pathetic face and longed with all my heart</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to put her tired head upon my shoulder,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">taking my coat and wrapping it around her</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">emaciated form.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then I looked down the train and saw an old man;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">he had apparently been to the hospital, because</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">his head was bandaged and his face contracted</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">from time to time in pain. He gazed slyly</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">about, and when he thought no one was looking</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">he spat upon the floor between his legs.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ordinarily I should have wanted to kill</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">him for it, but then, oddly enough, I felt</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">no disgust but only a great pity and sympathy</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">for him.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">A small child opposite was screaming shrilly</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and every few seconds licking the window pane,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">while his parents fought and argued with each</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">other beside him. I wanted to take their hands</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and tell them not to quarrel and I longed to</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">take the child on my lap; cuddling it to me</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and distracting it from the soiled window pane.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then as I gazed at all the faces along the seats</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a great understanding and sympathy for them sprang</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">up within me. I wished I could take them by</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the hand one by one out into the sunlight, giving</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">them what they most desired, and then be able to</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">rejoice at their good fortune in which I would</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">share no part.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I forgot myself completely and a spirit of</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">exaltation came to me such as I had never</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">experienced before. The subway ceased to smell</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and upon each face and in my heart I seemed to</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">discern a great light.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I held my breath while I felt as if I were being</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">carried on by some unknown harmony and rhythm;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I was sure that all the eyes in the train had</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">grown kindly and that no one harbored evil in</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">his heart.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Before the feeling faded away—as I knew it would—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and left me again my same selfish and miserable</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">self, I longed to ascertain what this sublime</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">mood could be. As I wondered, back from my brain</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and all the way down to my heart I heard the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">words beating and hammering my answer——</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“This is love!” they cried.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="DISGUST">
+    DISGUST
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do you remember the day I left your house so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">suddenly and rushed out on the street?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Or perhaps you do not recall it and did not</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">remark my absence,—you had so many people there,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and your house was fragrant with such quantities</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of flowers, and every one seemed to pretend at being</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">gay, even if he were not.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And I? I left it all behind me because I heard</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">you boasting in such a light-hearted way of all we</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">had dreamed of and loved so well.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">My heart trembled at your careless words and I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">closed my ears and rushed out before you should have</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">killed my last illusion and made me hate you.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Your house, which a few moments before seemed gay</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and bright, suddenly flung from out its windows the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">flag of hypocrisy, and became meaningless and empty.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">My head ached; and I hurried aimlessly along the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">street peering into the faces of the passers-by,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">thinking that in humanity I should find a solace and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">an answer.... But they only pushed and knocked against</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">me and not one spirit spoke to me.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then I went into the museum and thought that there</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">with art I could find revelation and be comforted.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">So I walked through the galleries, but I was followed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">unendingly by the same <ins title="Original has 'upsparing'" id="unsparing">unsparing</ins> mob that</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">jostled me in the streets and suspicious guards</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">glared at me while all around hung low rows</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of portraits in heterogeneous fashion which, melting</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">into one another, lost their personality and meant</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">nothing to me.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">So I dragged myself out again into the spring</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">air and walked wearily toward the park. There,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">reaching a bench, I sank down and thought</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">at last I could relax undisturbed.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But a drunken man came and sat beside</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">me and nudged my elbow, so I rose and moved</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">away and wondered if there were any place</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">in the whole wide world where one could be</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">really alone and unimbittered.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Friendship, art and all the things I cherished</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seemed to have failed me.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Suddenly I thought of death!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then, meditating on the last long sleep, a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">sense of great peace and the solitude I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">had longed for came over me....</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">But only for a brief instant, because I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">remembered with anguish that, even in</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">death, one could not be alone; and the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">thought of overcrowded and congested</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">cemeteries filled my soul with horror;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I shuddered!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="JOY">
+    JOY
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I looked out of the window at the snow</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">on the ground and something in the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">sunlight made me throw aside my books</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and go out.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I do not recall how I reached there,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">but I found myself in the heart of the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">park, and maybe because it was so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">early, or I do not know quite why,—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it seemed empty,—I looked across the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">white stretch of glistening snow and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">my heart beat with joy at being alone.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Suddenly something very odd happened to me:</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Everything and everyone in my life</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seemed to drop away from me; I felt</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">as though my spirit had been freed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and as if no harm could ever come</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to me again.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">So I laughed and blew my breath out</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">in the cold air and waved it good-bye,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I shouted aloud and tossed the</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">snow from side to side with my feet.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I knew you would be waiting for me and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">be angry, but that and all things else</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seemed very remote and far away, so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I dismissed it from my mind and did not</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">think of it again.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then I pretended I was Columbus discovering</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">America and I called out “land ahead.”</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">But after, I changed and pretended I was</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Jeanne d’Arc leading the French army,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and all the while sang the Marseillaise</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">because it thrilled me so and I waved my</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">arms and danced.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then I decided to be the wind, and I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">ran as fast as I could and fell down</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">in the snow, jumped up again and laughed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">some more.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I threw kisses and made faces at the sun</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I tried to catch the little diamonds</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that gleamed on the snow,—but each one</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lured me on to another, until it seemed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">like an eternal mirage,—so I stood still,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">drew a long breath and thanked God for Life!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then as I walked on I felt that I possessed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">everything, because I had youth, health</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and ambition.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And the whole world seemed to be stretching</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">out its alluring hands before me with</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">wonderful rose-tipped fingers!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="DESPAIR">
+    DESPAIR
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">One day I said, “There is no such thing as</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">love,” and something closed up within</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">me; and although I looked upon people</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I knew I did not see them. Some horrible</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">apprehension seemed to grip at my heart</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">with <ins title="Original has 'ice boned'" id="ice">ice-boned</ins> hands. I felt nauseated</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and sick.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I went home and closed my door and, for</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the first time in my life, threw my</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">books into a corner and broke my pens</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and pencils.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">After that outburst I sat down and tried</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to think, but all my thoughts seemed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">draped in long garbs of black crepe that,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">stealing in and out through my mind like</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">phantoms on tiptoe, gave me no peace.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I thought what a failure my life had been</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I believed every one had deserted me.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I longed to die!</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I saw your roses, but I threw them</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">on the floor and stepped on them because</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">they seemed fresh and gay; and a thousand</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">sad thoughts rushed through my mind, while</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I felt as if I were being oppressed by</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">all the nightmares of the world and beating</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">my soul against a closed iron door.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then I remembered that people said “tears soothe</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the heart;” so I prayed to be allowed to weep,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">but instantly cursed myself for praying</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and cried aloud, “There is no God!”</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And all night long I sat in darkness, staring</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">into space with clenched hands, repeating the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">words over and over again, “No love, no hope”—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">“No love, no hope”....</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="TENDERNESS">
+    TENDERNESS
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">They always said of her that she was selfish</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and spoiled and that, although she lived in a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">big house and had everything in the world</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">money could buy, no one really cared about her</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">for herself.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">They admitted she had beauty, but they said her</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">face was hard and bitter and that her only</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">power lay in her worldly prosperity, which had</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a certain empty, insincere following,—but</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that she had no real influence because she did</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">not have a heart and no one loved her.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I used to hear them talking about her rudeness</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and her detached indifference, and they seemed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to excite themselves greatly about her,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and grow angry and shrug their shoulders;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">then they would always end by thanking God</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">they were not like her.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">After these discussions—in which I took no</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">part—I always went home and thought about her.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And then one day I went to hear Kreisler play.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I think he played more exquisitely than I had</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">ever heard him before; perhaps it was the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">music of Beethoven that moved me so or,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">more likely, the mingling of both their spirits</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that tore so plaintively at my soul.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Whatever the cause, I felt a great spell upon me,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I saw nothing and was not conscious where</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I was until, suddenly and accidentally, my eyes</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">fell upon her face; I was brought back to my</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">surroundings,—and all the things I had heard</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">about her came to me, and went crowding through</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">my mind.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">She was not alone in the box, although she</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">sat apart in a corner, separated from the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">other people as it seemed to me she always</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">was. She was leaning a bit forward with</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">her hands clasping her knees, her lips a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">trifle apart and seeming singularly pale;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">but what I noticed most was the expression</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">in her eyes, which had an entreaty and a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">pathos in them I had never seen in any face</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">before,—and her mouth was strangely soft with a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">look of sweetness about its corners.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">She was not looking at Kreisler, but gazing out</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">before her as though at something we others could</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">not see, and I was filled with a peculiar sensation</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that she understood and felt things which were remote</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">from other people.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then I looked away because somehow I felt as if</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I were spying at her with her mask off, and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">looking upon her soul!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The violin stopped and, as the last notes vibrated</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and died away and were swallowed up in the applause,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I looked at her again.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Once more the hard look was on her face and the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">bitter pain in her eyes.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I saw the people she was with exchange a casual</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">remark with her, and then draw a little aside</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and talk among themselves.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">All at once a great wave of tenderness came over me,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I longed with sudden eagerness to put my arms</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">about her and draw her to me. I wanted to tell</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">her not to be lonely and sad and bitter, because</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I knew she was not all they said she was, and all</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">they had made her with their idle talk.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I wanted to hold her hand and tell her I understood</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">and sympathized with her, and that I knew she only</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seemed all the things they said, simply because</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">no one ever kissed her.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="HURT_FEELINGS">
+    HURT FEELINGS
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">You remember of course the day I acted so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">queerly in your studio?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">How happy we were going up the stairs, and how</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">we laughed and vowed it would be the most wonderful</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">day we had ever spent!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“The day of days,” you called it.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And do you remember how I tripped and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">dropped the tea and sugar packages, and you dropped the cake in</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">an effort to steady me—and how we sat down on the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">steps and laughed and laughed as though it was the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">funniest thing in the whole wide world?</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And then in the corridor you would not let me open</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the door until you had kissed my hands.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">But as soon as we were in the studio something</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seemed to snap within me, my mood changed entirely</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">and I ceased to laugh; I put the packages on the table</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and was very quiet.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Of course you thought I had one of my old-time</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">headaches, and you took out that absurd headache</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">cologne—which never does the slightest bit of good—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and insisted upon spraying it over me.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And you tried to make me laugh again and kissed my</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">neck, but in spite of the fact that you looked like</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">an injured little child, I stood looking out of the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">window and, when you asked me what was the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">matter, I merely replied “nothing.”</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Then in the face of all your desperate entreaties</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I left the studio, and went down the stairs out into</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the street....</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I am sorry now I did it and, although I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">never meant to tell you the reason—now,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">because it all seems so trivial, I think</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I shall:</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do you remember how I stopped laughing the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">instant you opened the door?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">That was because I noticed at once the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">little plant I gave you was placed in a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">dark corner, withered and dead.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="WEARINESS">
+    WEARINESS
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">No, I do not want to dance tonight,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">nor talk nor play.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">You think I am foolish because I</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">want to sit here and stare into the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">night? I wonder!</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">You say I am lazy?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I wonder at that too. Well, no matter.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">You go and dance and leave me here</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">alone; then when you return you will</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">tell me what you have accomplished by</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">your dancing, and if you feel any the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">happier for it,—but no, do not bother—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I think I shall be too tired even to listen.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It is true you will be exercising</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">your legs, but I shall sit here</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and travel far and wide among the stars—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and exercise my soul.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do you know my body seems strangely</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lax tonight?</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I think I must be quite exhausted;</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">and I am sure that I could sit here</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">for years and years and never move</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a muscle or enter into life at all again.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">So tired am I.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Perhaps, if I sit here long enough,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">all the generations of the future will come</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and tell me their secrets because they</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">will know I should be far too weary</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">ever to repeat them.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="OPPORTUNITY">
+    OPPORTUNITY
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It is strange how seldom people can judge</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the psychological moment to reach forth</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">their hands and grasp what they desire.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">How often does the gardener in the field of</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">life pick the rose before it has really</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">opened or just a little too late, when</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it has already commenced to fade and drop</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">its petals,—but how divinely fortunate</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">is the one who plucks it just at the right</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">moment and, as a reward, not only has the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">rose, but very often with it a tiny, glistening,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">jewelled drop of dew!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">We cannot say that this is merely chance,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">but rather a God-like bit of intuition</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that is wound about and entwined in some</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">souls.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Too often in our feebleness we say opportunity</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">makes us what we are; and we do not realize our</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">strength or we should say that <i>we</i> will make</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">opportunity for that which we wish to be!</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I feel that opportunity is something which grows</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">often and plentifully in the lives of some but,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">like the grass beneath our feet, it is very</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seldom cultivated and springs up noiselessly</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and silently so that we do not notice it.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Most of us, when we wish to do something very</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">much or attain a great desire, expect the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">moment for fulfillment to come heralded with</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">blasts of trumpets—and when it does not</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">come that way, but through an unpretentious</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">medium, we cannot grasp its significance;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and so we pass it by....</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The wise soul is he who expects and seeks</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">opportunity in all places—not graspingly</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">or shrewdly, but silently and with great</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">faith; and who knows and comprehends the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">law that not always must we go out to seek</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it, but perhaps, while merely contemplating</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the stars, will we gain force—and so it</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">will come to us.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Not too obviously, perhaps, but with an interior</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">illumination that will give us the Vision</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and show us the path onward.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="TIME">
+    TIME
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Time and space mean very little to me today.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I am sitting here thinking of ten years ago</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and marvelling because it seems so close and so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">little forgotten,—infinitely nearer than those</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">moments of even yesterday, which seem already remote and distant.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">How strange time is!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do you know I often fancy that old Father Time</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">holds in his hand some musical instrument? Maybe</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a harp or a lyre—instead of a scythe as he is</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">always depicted—and he plays and plays and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">plays ... mostly very low; and then things</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that occurred only yesterday seem vague, almost</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">forgotten and far away.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">But sometimes he sees our hearts craving to recall</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">vividly some face, to live over again some</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">moment, or to hear once more an almost forgotten</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">echo—and then he takes compassion upon us and</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">he plays madly and loudly, and suddenly, as though</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">in a vision, we witness departed moments; or we</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">see a face or hear a voice close beside us, and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">so real are they, that we have but to stretch out</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">our hands to touch and caress them, or turn</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">our heads to hear the cadence of a voice rise from</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">out the long-dead past.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Have you noticed how vividly old people recall</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">their childhood?</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Ah, that is because Father Time, being so old</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">himself, has a profound attraction for old age,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">based on reciprocal qualities which he knows them</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to share in common with him.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">So of course he loves them best and, realizing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that he has no earthly future to offer them, he</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">draws down his musical instrument and plays louder</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and louder—and lo! they can sit for hours at</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a time, slowly rocking backward and forward, and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">all the while they are living over again some</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">cherished moment and hearing sweet, enchanted music.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And, if you listen closely during the silent</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">intervals between the squeaking and rocking of</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">their chairs, I am sure you will hear them saying</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">softly to themselves as they nod their heads slowly</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to and fro—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent6">“Why, it all seems only yesterday!”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="REVELATION">
+    REVELATION
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It seems to me that life is absolutely</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">futile and incomplete until we realize that</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">no matter what we are doing, or whither</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">going, it is because of some preconceived</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">reason; and that in the end, when we have</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">reached the last turning of the road and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">come to lay down our wearying burdens, no</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">matter what our regrets through life may have</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">been—we will know and fully comprehend</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that the tending of our footsteps this or</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that way was merely the working out of a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">great end.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">The orientation of our views is so limited</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and circumscribed that, when something comes</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to us which we have not desired, we can</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">only feel the bearing down of a cruel fate</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">upon our heads. And too often we toss those</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">same heads back in stubborn despair and grind</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">our teeth in the gale of what must be—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">thereby losing our balance and sense of what</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>might</i> be had we the courage to entwine</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">our strength with that of the Infinite!</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Many times the inveiglement of an idea—a set</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">idea which perhaps we have nourished in our</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">hearts for days—will keep us from all</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">realization of the good we might gain by a</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">different shaping of our lives from that</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">which we had dreamed.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">To some of us the revelation never comes;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and we go on pursuing life with our noses</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">pressed to the ground, without a glimmer</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of comprehension of the great and superfine</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">machine which marks out and registers our lives.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">To others, who are perhaps more worthy, the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">revelation <i>does</i> come, and usually during or</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">after our darkest hours.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">It is indeed a proof of the Divine that we should</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">receive light after darkness!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">To these same it is strange how sometimes</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it will come slowly like the rising of the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">moon, and then again quickly as a flood</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of sunlight after a darkening cloud has passed.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">In the sad or desperate moments of our lives</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">when indeed we see nothing to go on for—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">when we are torn and spent and there seems</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">no end to the coursing of the blood from</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">out our hearts—it is then that the knowledge</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">in a flash comes to us, that there <i>must</i></div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">be a reason, and that we could not be made</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to suffer so without an ultimate beneficial</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">purpose.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And so all striving seems puerile and we cease</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to beat our wings against the cage, lift our</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">torn hearts instead to the sweet rain of</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">heaven and ask to see the star that may guide us.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And, as small children who, seeing not, obey,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">so we too, set forth; and, although unconsciously,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">in our faith become as sages.</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="FINDING_GOD">
+    FINDING GOD
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I have been reading tonight a book on</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">science which, I think, tends to</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">kill all spiritual hope and attributes</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">everything to the material; taking away</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">our dreams of miracles, crushing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">our hopes in the Beyond and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">tearing down the belief of a divine</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">intuition within us.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">It explains all these things as springing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">entirely from pathological causes and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">seems to feed the intellect while</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it starves the Soul.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I think so much has been said in this generation</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">about science, so much has been questioned and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">delved into about it that I cannot help</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">feeling that science will eventually encompass</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and satiate the world—that is, if we let it</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">engulf us completely and turn our hearts and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">souls into rocks and machines; and insist in</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">believing that the still silent voice within</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">us, which we once called God, is merely the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">emotion caused by a craving for food or sleep</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">or air, or some other physical necessity—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">which will cease when we last close these</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">weary eyes of ours.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It is indeed true to call this the age of science</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and “The Iron Age,” for what could tend to make</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">men’s hearts more thoroughly iron than to tell</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">them to stifle and kill all their emotions and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that we are, after all, only a part of the scheme</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of the Whole, and must not look forward because</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">there is no Beyond?</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">“Where there is no vision the people perish.”</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">So in this age when men seek and in answer</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">find only a golden frame—with no color</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">picture inside to brighten the rooms of life—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">but instead cold dismal facts, perhaps then</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it is well that thousands of these poor</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">men should be killed off and not taste the bitter</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">poison to the end.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And yet, is it not the irony of fate that</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">science again with its machine guns, its</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">poisoned gas and all other improved and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">advanced diabolical warfare should be the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">hand to slay them?</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Men’s ears that can only listen to the roar</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of machinery, cannot hear the song of the</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">birds; men’s bodies and feet that are so well</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">clothed, cannot feel the clay of the earth nor</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the poetry of the wind and sun on their bodies;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">men’s eyes that are tired straining in the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">research room or the laboratory cannot see the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">stars, and men’s hearts that lead themselves into</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">believing that from the decay of these poor</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">bodies there is no future, cannot see God.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And by these words I do not mean to refute</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the great and everlasting good that science</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">has done for the world, nor do I forget the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">vast progress for the benefit of humanity in</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">surgery, hygiene and medicine, and the advancement</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">toward comfort, economy of time and manual labor</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">which it has donated to us by the efforts and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">sacrifices of wonderful and brave men.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">To all those who have toiled and still have been</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">able to Believe, I should like to write a eulogy.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">But it is to those who, in their search in science,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">have lost their ideal and come to live so <ins title="Original has 'scentifically'" id="scientifically">scientifically</ins></div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that their souls, as it were, have dried up and left</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">only the workings of their brains—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it is from these, that I would turn my face away.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">To live <i>really</i> it is impossible to live scientifically.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">We must live by the emotions to survive and find</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">God, because it is only by and through the emotions</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">that we truly palpitate and feel ... and reaching</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">out we extend our hands and lean far into the Vast</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Space of the Infinite!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="BRAINSTORM">
+    BRAINSTORM
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">How absurd people are! As if anyone could ever</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">understand anyone else! I am so tired of people</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">always trying to understand me, when I hold no</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">understanding of myself. Tonight I have no faith</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and in my brain there are chaos and whirlwinds.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I have ceased to believe in God or man.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do you remember when I used to talk to you of ideals</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and truth and all such false things? That was when</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I was quite mad, but tonight I am <i>sane</i>; sane and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">weary of all control and pretenses. I am tired of</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">being polite, of talking low when I wish to shout, of</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">laughing when I want to cry. I am tired of convention</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and going to dinners and saying “What a charming party</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">this is” when all the while I should like to tear the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">table-cloth off and smash up the best china.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I am tired of shuffling feet, ever struggling onward</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and leading nowhere. I am tired of weak vacillating</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">people and those who do not know real love—Love is</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">no love at all where for its sake one is not willing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to commit a crime. But I am also tired of loving and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of being loved—it seems to be the dark ages since</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I spoke to you of love—I am tired of lies and truth—</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">more tired of truth since it only raises hopes and in the end fails.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">How futile all these things are, how misguiding and tragically frail!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">If Life only had long hair so that I might run my hand</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">through it and tear it from its roots! If I could</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">only be an earthquake and shake the very civilization</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of life! Civilization, what a farce! As if there</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">existed any such thing. I wish I could be a hurricane</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">and crush down everything in my way, or a maddening</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">thunderstorm, with its flashes of blood and fire across the sky....</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A thousand dead bodies tonight might lie in my way</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I should like to walk over them and, I wish that</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Life itself were a strip of gauze so that I might tear</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it asunder and throw it to the winds!</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Chaotic wild thoughts are running through my brain,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">but mostly darkness and a mad desire to end it all.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I am so very tired of Life, but most of all I am tired</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of myself.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0"><i>Oh, My God</i>, let me break these chains....</div>
+      <div class="verse indent8">I am so very tired of myself!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="PEACE">
+    PEACE
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">It had been such a warm day. Toward sunset</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">do you remember how we stole away to the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">beach and after driving for some time we</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">finally came to the dunes, got out of the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">motor and walked the rest of the way?</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I can remember now how white the sand was</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and how our feet sank in it and, when we</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">drew them out again it seemed to cover our</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">tracks leaving hardly any impression behind us.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I remember also how the long reeds sprang up</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and almost hid you from view; then we began</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to climb the dunes and all out of breath</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">we reached the top, and there below us lay</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the beach, and the ocean spreading out from</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">it as far as we could see.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I recall catching my breath as I always do</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">when I again perceive the ocean after having</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">been away from it. It always seems to fill</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">me with such inexhaustible wonder and pours</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">into my soul a peculiar strength and power</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">to go on with the dull and terrible things</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of life ... forcing me to finish and, at</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the end, to conquer them.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">I can see now the blueness of the water and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">feel again the great stillness that seemed</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">to be about us. Over our left shoulder</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">back of us lay the inlet, with the sun shining</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">on it and causing it to dazzle like a steel</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">needle; and the long thin white beach—like</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">a golden thread—stretching from it and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">finally seeming to trail off to nothing and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">burying itself in the foam of the sea.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Do you remember how we lay there for ever so</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">long and neither of us said a word? Finally</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the sun went down and we watched the sand</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">change from gold to red; the sky became violet</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">with little shadings of green and pink and</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">then suddenly—as if by magic—the ocean</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">became quite calm and a fascinating little</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">star appeared reflecting and twinkling on the inlet.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Back on the main land we watched the little</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">lights of the houses come out one by one;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">in the twilight at first they were very faint</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and pale, but after as the night stooped</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">down and crept upon us, they grew brighter and stronger.</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">And then for the first time you broke the silence;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">turning to me you asked, “What are you feeling?”</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">I answered, “Peace.”</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p>
+
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="TWILIGHT_DREAMS">
+    TWILIGHT DREAMS
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">As I open the long windows and step out upon</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the terrace, the presence of the mysterious</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">hour is upon me....</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A strange undefined blue mist rises from the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">earth and gently, like a magical veil, winds</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">itself around the trees and slowly rising,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">presses its face against the sky as though to</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">peer into the eyes, and read the heart of the stars.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Fantastic trees dimly outlined, bend together</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and whisper softly; suddenly I feel as though</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the air were charged with all the wishes of the</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">world. Great and small, joyous and sad wishes,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">all thrown out from the struggling desirous</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">heart of Life and, at twilight hour stealing</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">silently—some a little ashamed, some a little</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">proud—to nestle under the white moon—flowers</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">in hopes that some soul of the dead—which steal</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">about at twilight hour too—may be their friend</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and help them to come true.</div>
+    </div>
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">Timidly, and trembling a little from the embraces</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">of the mist, a tiny star shines out, while slowly</div>
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span>      <div class="verse indent0">and reverently the darkness kneels down and kisses</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">the face of the earth.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">A vast and deep silence has come over everything;</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">and I, with all else, find myself holding my</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">breath as I steal back into the room and sink into a chair.</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Leaning back languidly I half close my eyes, while</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">far off I smell the salt and sadness of the sea....</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">Weirdly and ghostlike you creep in and, in my</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">twilight dreams, you come to me!</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+<div class="tnote">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_note">
+  Transcriber’s Note
+  </h2>
+
+<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p>
+
+<p>Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following changes:</p>
+
+<table class="autotable">
+<tbody>
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#unsparing">11</a>: “by the same upsparing”</td>
+<td class="tdl">to</td>
+<td class="tdl">“by the same unsparing”</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#ice">16</a>: “my heart with ice boned”</td>
+<td class="tdl">to</td>
+<td class="tdl">“my heart with ice-boned”</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#scientifically">36</a>: “to live so scentifically”</td>
+<td class="tdl">to</td>
+<td class="tdl">“to live so scientifically”</td>
+</tr>
+
+</tbody>
+</table>
+
+</div></div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79277 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+[Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for eBook [#79277](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79277)