Rivers to the Sea Part 5

But tho' the pool is safe from storm And from the tide has found surcease, It grows more bitter than the sea, For all its peace.

DOORYARD ROSES

I HAVE come the selfsame path To the selfsame door, Years have left the roses there Burning as before.

While I watch them in the wind Quick the hot tears start-- Strange so frail a flame outlasts Fire in the heart.

A PRAYER

UNTIL I lose my soul and lie Blind to the beauty of the earth, Deaf tho' a lyric wind goes by, Dumb in a storm of mirth;

Until my heart is quenched at length And I have left the land of men, Oh let me love with all my strength Careless if I am loved again.

II

INDIAN SUMMER

LYRIC night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the pa.s.sionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent.

The gra.s.shopper's horn, and far off, high in the maples The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence, Under a moon waning and worn and broken, Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects, Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters, Let me remember you, soon will the winter be on us, Snow-hushed and heartless.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction While I gaze, oh fields that rest after harvest, As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to, Lest they forget them.

THE SEA WIND

I AM a pool in a peaceful place, I greet the great sky face to face, I know the stars and the stately moon And the wind that runs with rippling shoon-- But why does it always bring to me The far-off, beautiful sound of the sea?

The marsh-gra.s.s weaves me a wall of green, But the wind comes whispering in between, In the dead of night when the sky is deep The wind comes waking me out of sleep-- Why does it always bring to me The far-off, terrible call of the sea?

THE CLOUD

I AM a cloud in the heaven's height, The stars are lit for my delight, Tireless and changeful, swift and free, I cast my shadow on hill and sea-- But why do the pines on the mountain's crest Call to me always, "Rest, rest"?

I throw my mantle over the moon And I blind the sun on his throne at noon, Nothing can tame me, nothing can bind, I am a child of the heartless wind-- But oh the pines on the mountain's crest Whispering always, "Rest, rest."

THE POOR HOUSE

HOPE went by and Peace went by And would not enter in; Youth went by and Health went by And Love that is their kin.

Those within the house shed tears On their bitter bread; Some were old and some were mad, And some were sick a-bed.

Gray Death saw the wretched house And even he pa.s.sed by-- "They have never lived," he said, "They can wait to die."

NEW YEAR'S DAWN--BROADWAY

WHEN the horns wear thin And the noise, like a garment outworn, Falls from the night, The tattered and shivering night, That thinks she is gay; When the patient silence comes back, And retires, And returns, Rebuffed by a ribald song, Wounded by vehement cries, Fleeing again to the stars-- Ashamed of her sister the night; Oh, then they steal home, The blinded, the pitiful ones With their gew-gaws still in their hands, Reeling with odorous breath And thick, coa.r.s.e words on their tongues.

They get them to bed, somehow, And sleep the forgiving, Comes thru the scattering tumult And closes their eyes.

The stars sink down ashamed And the dawn awakes, Like a youth who steals from a brothel, Dizzy and sick.

THE STAR

A WHITE star born in the evening glow Looked to the round green world below, And saw a pool in a wooded place That held like a jewel her mirrored face.

She said to the pool: "Oh, wondrous deep, I love you, I give you my light to keep.

Oh, more profound than the moving sea That never has shown myself to me!

Oh, fathomless as the sky is far, Hold forever your tremulous star!"

But out of the woods as night grew cool A brown pig came to the little pool; It grunted and splashed and waded in And the deepest place but reached its chin.

The water gurgled with tender glee And the mud churned up in it turbidly.

The star grew pale and hid her face In a bit of floating cloud like lace.

DOCTORS

EVERY night I lie awake And every day I lie abed And hear the doctors, Pain and Death, Conferring at my head.

They speak in scientific tones, Professional and low-- One argues for a speedy cure, The other, sure and slow.