15 May [1926]
506. «…This funny game — this life — is full of things…»
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…This funny game — this life — is full of things
We guess not of. A mocking bird that sings
At dawn, in June, above your windowsill,
Charming your waking fancies with its trill —
Will fly away, and you will never see
Why it had landed on the neighbor tree.
Better to keep things hidden than unmasked,
Lest answers startle, if the truth be asked;
Kinder to let the goldfish float below,
Than, having caught it, watch its life-light go;
Safer to leave the morning star unfound,
Than, having held it, shatter on the ground…
— Leave, and be gone along the open trail,
Don't watch the sun until its glories pale.
So I will wander on, and so will you,
Our feet still wet with early morning dew,
A endless day still glimmering ahead—
That speaks of warmth and often burrs instead.
… We both are humans. That's where really lies
My sympathy for you; and though our eyes
Have never met, we many times have seen
The other's eyes, not knowing what they mean.
Another life, passed by along the way,
Forgotten in a week, yet near today.
Let us be merry; though the blissful hours
May be but few in this here life of ours.
Let us be happy; though the fairy wand
Touches but seldom each unfailing hand…
31 May [1926]
507. Parting
The cold waves, and the light underneath the waves,
— Is anything grayer — is anyone's welcome colder?
Yet dimmer and dimmer grows
The shadow of love's graves,
And barely my conscience saves
The parting touch of your shoulder.
In the ocean I seek repose.
Not even grief can mar
The beauty — when waters close
To silence love's echo.
And you are forgotten and far.
24 Sept. 1926
508. «They took me to the door and showed…»
They took me to the door and showed
A narrow and a winding road,
Leading to wondrous things, that may
Be mine, if I but go that way.
I went, for I had naught to lose,
And saw no other road to choose.
And much the Powers freely gave
That I was fool enough to crave.
Beauty and Love and Youth I had,
And many friends who made me glad
That Higher Powers long ago
Had shown me just that way to go.
Yet often, oh, how often now
I want — if they but told me how —
To find that first wide-open door
And beg for just a little more.
June 1927
509. «It's eye for eye, and tooth for tooth…»
It's eye for eye, and tooth for tooth,
And even the Eternal Truth
For every cruel word I've said
Breathes vengeance on my head.
16 Apr. 1929
510. «I cast a rock into the well…»
I cast a rock into the well
And stood to listen how it fell.
How it went shooting through the deep.
Where frogs and water-serpents creep.
And as it reached the bottom black
I heard it give a sullen whack
And saw the bubbles at the top
And circles w’here 1 let it drop.
And now — I see the sky and sun
And I regret what I have done
And wonder if the silent stone
Remembers, where it lies alone
Among the creatures of the slime,
Its happier and brighter time —
And if it longs to see above
The sun, which I deprived it of.
17 Apr. 1929
511. «Like colored glass is fair…»
Like colored glass is fair
when the porch is gray,
so all my days were
till you went away.
Like rainbows in the sky
following after rain,
so is the thought that I
may meet you yet again.
But, oh, the endless years
that I don't see your face
are cold and lonely years
in a lonely place.
6 Dec. 1929
512. «Oh, tender dawn above the sombre pond…»
Oh, tender dawn above the sombre pond,
where great, green drooping weeping willows crowd
to touch the sleeping water; and beyond —
the golden turrets of a rising cloud.
Oh, gentle wind, sweet scented breath that stirs
this silent waking water, — and the lace
of willows, and green saplings, and brown burrs
framing its face!
What can the heart within a human breast —
what can it do with that taut golden string
calling for all the agony and unrest
which make men sing?
Weep in such hours of ecstasy, oh heart!
Be silent, oh dark heart, — you cannot cool
your burning thirst from that deep, glittering pool,
or reach that sky light where the willows part!
Nothing there is that you can do. Lie low,
hide on the soft black earth, in the wet grass,
breathe not when this mild wind begins to blow,
hear not, nor watch how the green ripples go,
that, seeing you — helpless and suffering so —
those stirring hours take pity on you and pass!