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Sara Teasdale
See the open park
Lying below us with a million lamps
Scattered in wise disorder like the stars.
We look down on them as God must look down
On constellations floating under Him
Tangled in clouds. . . . Come, then, and let us walk
Since we have reached the park. It is our garden,
All black and blossomless this winter night,
But we bring April with us, you and I;
We set the whole world on the trail of spring.
I think that every path we ever took
Has marked our footprints in mysterious fire,
Delicate gold that only fairies see.
When they wake up at dawn in hollow tree-trunks
And come out on the drowsy park, they look
Along the empty paths and say, "Oh, here
They went, and here, and here, and here! Come, see,
Here is their bench, take hands and let us dance
About it in a windy ring and make
A circle round it only they can cross
When they come back again! " . . . Look at the lake--
Do you remember how we watched the swans
That night in late October while they slept?
Swans must have stately dreams, I think. But now
The lake bears only thin reflected lights
That shake a little. How I long to take
One from the cold black water--new-made gold
To give you in your hand! And see, and see,
There is a star, deep in the lake, a star!
Oh, dimmer than a pearl--if you stoop down
Your hand could almost reach it up to me. . . .
There was a new frail yellow moon to-night--
I wish you could have had it for a cup
With stars like dew to fill it to the brim. . . .
How cold it is! Even the lights are cold;
They have put shawls of fog around them, see!
What if the air should grow so dimly white
That we would lose our way along the paths
Made new by walls of moving mist receding
The more we follow. . . . What a silver night!
That was our bench the time you said to me
The long new poem--but how different now,
How eerie with the curtain of the fog
Making it strange to all the friendly trees!
There is no wind, and yet great curving scrolls
Carve themselves, ever changing, in the mist.
Walk on a little, let me stand here watching
To see you, too, grown strange to me and far. . . .
I used to wonder how the park would be
If one night we could have it all alone--
No lovers with close arm-encircled waists
To whisper and break in upon our dreams.
And now we have it! Every wish comes true!
We are alone now in a fleecy world;
Even the stars have gone. We two alone!
[End of Love Songs. ]
{As an item of interest to the reader, the following, which was at the
end of this edition, is included. Only the advertisement for the same
author is included}.
By the same author
Rivers to the Sea
"There is hardly another American woman-poet whose poetry is generally
known and loved like that of Sara Teasdale. 'Rivers to the Sea', her
latest volume of lyrics, possesses the delicacy of imagery, the inward
illumination, the high vision that characterize the poetry that will
endure the test of time. "--'Review of Reviews'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is a book of sheer delight. . . . Her touch turns
everything to song. "--Edward J. Wheeler, in 'Current Opinion'.
"Sara Teasdale's lyrics have the clarity, the precision, the grace and
fragrance of flowers. "--Harriet Monroe, in 'Poetry'.
"Sara Teasdale has a genius for the song, for the perfect lyric, in
which the words seem to have fallen into place without art or
effort. "--Louis Untermeyer, in 'The Chicago Evening Post'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is the best book of pure lyrics that has appeared
in English since A. E. Housman's 'A Shropshire Lad'. "--William Marion
Reedy, in 'The Mirror'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is the most beautiful book of pure lyrics that has
come to my hand in years. "--'Los Angeles Graphic'.
"Sara Teasdale sings about love better than any other contemporary
American poet. "--'The Boston Transcript'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is the most charming volume of poetry that has
appeared on either side of the Atlantic in a score of years. "--'St.
Louis Republic'.
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933):
Teasdale was born in St. Louis, Missouri, where she attended a school
that was founded by the grandfather of another great poet from St.
Louis--T. S. Eliot. She later associated herself more with New York
City.
Her first book of poems was "Sonnets to Duse" (1907), [at least one poem
in the current volume, "Faults", is from this book,] but "Helen of Troy"
(1911) was the true launch of her career, followed by "Rivers to the Sea"
(1915), "Love Songs" (1917), "Flame and Shadow" (1920) and more. Her
final volume, "Strange Victory", is considered by many to be predictive
of her suicide in 1933.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Songs, by Sara Teasdale
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? The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rivers to the Sea, by Sara Teasdale
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. net
Title: Rivers to the Sea
Author: Sara Teasdale
Posting Date: July 30, 2008 [EBook #596]
Release Date: July, 1996
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIVERS TO THE SEA ***
Produced by Judith Boss
RIVERS TO THE SEA
BY
SARA TEASDALE
To
ERNST
CONTENTS
PART I
SPRING NIGHT
THE FLIGHT
NEW LOVE AND OLD
THE LOOK
SPRING
THE LIGHTED WINDOW
THE KISS
SWANS
THE OLD MAID
FROM THE WOOLWORTH TOWER
AT NIGHT
THE YEARS
PEACE
APRIL
COME
MOODS
APRIL SONG
MAY DAY
CROWNED
TO A CASTILIAN SONG
BROADWAY
A WINTER BLUEJAY
IN A RESTAURANT
JOY
IN A RAILROAD STATION
IN THE TRAIN
TO ONE AWAY
SONG
DEEP IN THE NIGHT
THE INDIA WHARF
I SHALL NOT CARE
DESERT POOLS
LONGING
PITY
AFTER PARTING
ENOUGH
ALCHEMY
FEBRUARY
MORNING
MAY NIGHT
DUSK IN JUNE
LOVE-FREE
SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE
IN A SUBWAY STATION
AFTER LOVE
DOORYARD ROSES
A PRAYER
PART II
INDIAN SUMMER
THE SEA WIND
THE CLOUD
THE POOR HOUSE
NEW YEAR'S DAWN-BROADWAY
THE STAR
DOCTORS
THE INN OF EARTH
IN THE CARPENTER'S SHOP
THE CARPENTER'S SON
THE MOTHER OF A POET
IN MEMORIAM F. O. S
TWILIGHT
SWALLOW FLIGHT
THOUGHTS
TO DICK, ON HIS SIXTH BIRTHDAY
TO ROSE
THE FOUNTAIN
THE ROSE
DREAMS
"I AM NOT YOURS"
PIERROT'S SONG
NIGHT IN ARIZONA
DUSK IN WAR TIME
SPRING IN WAR TIME
WHILE I MAY
DEBT
FROM THE NORTH
THE LIGHTS OF NEW YORK
SEA LONGING
THE RIVER
LEAVES
THE ANSWER
PART III
OVER THE ROOFS
A CRY
CHANCE
IMMORTAL
AFTER DEATH
TESTAMENT
GIFTS
PART IV
FROM THE SEA
VIGNETTES OVERSEAS
PART V
SAPPHO
----------------------------------
I
SPRING NIGHT
THE park is filled with night and fog,
The veils are drawn about the world,
The drowsy lights along the paths
Are dim and pearled.
Gold and gleaming the empty streets,
Gold and gleaming the misty lake,
The mirrored lights like sunken swords,
Glimmer and shake.
Oh, is it not enough to be
Here with this beauty over me?
My throat should ache with praise, and I
Should kneel in joy beneath the sky.
Oh, beauty are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love
With youth, a singing voice and eyes
To take earth's wonder with surprise?
Why have I put off my pride,
Why am I unsatisfied,
I for whom the pensive night
Binds her cloudy hair with light,
I for whom all beauty burns
Like incense in a million urns?
Oh, beauty, are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love?
THE FLIGHT
LOOK back with longing eyes and know that I will follow,
Lift me up in your love as a light wind lifts a swallow,
Let our flight be far in sun or windy rain--
BUT WHAT IF I HEARD MY FIRST LOVE CALLING ME AGAIN?
Hold me on your heart as the brave sea holds the foam,
Take me far away to the hills that hide your home;
Peace shall thatch the roof and love shall latch the door--
BUT WHAT IF I HEARD MY FIRST LOVE CALLING ME ONCE MORE?
NEW LOVE AND OLD
IN my heart the old love
Struggled with the new;
It was ghostly waking
All night thru.
Dear things, kind things,
That my old love said,
Ranged themselves reproachfully
Round my bed.
But I could not heed them,
For I seemed to see
The eyes of my new love
Fixed on me.
Old love, old love,
How can I be true?
Shall I be faithless to myself
Or to you?
THE LOOK
STREPHON kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
SPRING
IN Central Park the lovers sit,
On every hilly path they stroll,
Each thinks his love is infinite,
And crowns his soul.
But we are cynical and wise,
We walk a careful foot apart,
You make a little joke that tries
To hide your heart.
Give over, we have laughed enough;
Oh dearest and most foolish friend,
Why do you wage a war with love
To lose your battle in the end?
THE LIGHTED WINDOW
HE SAID:
"In the winter dusk
When the pavements were gleaming with rain,
I walked thru a dingy street
Hurried, harassed,
Thinking of all my problems that never are
solved.
Suddenly out of the mist, a flaring gas-jet
Shone from a huddled shop.
I saw thru the bleary window
A mass of playthings:
False-faces hung on strings,
Valentines, paper and tinsel,
Tops of scarlet and green,
Candy, marbles, jacks--
A confusion of color
Pathetically gaudy and cheap.
All of my boyhood
Rushed back.
Once more these things were treasures
Wildly desired.
With covetous eyes I looked again at the marbles,
The precious agates, the pee-wees, the chinies--
Then I passed on.
In the winter dusk,
The pavements were gleaming with rain;
There in the lighted window
I left my boyhood. "
THE KISS
BEFORE YOU kissed me only winds of heaven
Had kissed me, and the tenderness of rain--
Now you have come, how can I care for kisses
Like theirs again?
I sought the sea, she sent her winds to meet me,
They surged about me singing of the south--
I turned my head away to keep still holy
Your kiss upon my mouth.
And swift sweet rains of shining April weather
Found not my lips where living kisses are;
I bowed my head lest they put out my glory
As rain puts out a star.
I am my love's and he is mine forever,
Sealed with a seal and safe forevermore--
Think you that I could let a beggar enter
Where a king stood before?
SWANS
NIGHT is over the park, and a few brave stars
Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,
The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars
That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold.
We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,
And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;
How still you are--your gaze is on my face--
We watch the swans and never a word is said.
THE OLD MAID
I SAW her in a Broadway car,
The woman I might grow to be;
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me.
Her hair was dull and drew no light
And yet its color was as mine;
Her eyes were strangely like my eyes
Tho' love had never made them shine.
Her body was a thing grown thin,
Hungry for love that never came;
Her soul was frozen in the dark
Unwarmed forever by love's flame.
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me,--
His eyes were magic to defy
The woman I shall never be.
FROM THE WOOLWORTH TOWER
VIVID with love, eager for greater beauty
Out of the night we come
Into the corridor, brilliant and warm.
A metal door slides open,
And the lift receives us.
Swiftly, with sharp unswerving flight
The car shoots upward,
And the air, swirling and angry,
Howls like a hundred devils.
Past the maze of trim bronze doors,
Steadily we ascend.
I cling to you
Conscious of the chasm under us,
And a terrible whirring deafens my ears.
The flight is ended.
We pass thru a door leading onto the ledge--
Wind, night and space
Oh terrible height
Why have we sought you?
Oh bitter wind with icy invisible wings
Why do you beat us?
Why would you bear us away?
We look thru the miles of air,
The cold blue miles between us and the city,
Over the edge of eternity we look
On all the lights,
A thousand times more numerous than the stars;
Oh lines and loops of light in unwound chains
That mark for miles and miles
The vast black mazy cobweb of the streets;
Near us clusters and splashes of living gold
That change far off to bluish steel
Where the fragile lights on the Jersey shore
Tremble like drops of wind-stirred dew.
The strident noises of the city
Floating up to us
Are hallowed into whispers.
Ferries cross thru the darkness
Weaving a golden thread into the night,
Their whistles weird shadows of sound.
We feel the millions of humanity beneath us,--
The warm millions, moving under the roofs,
Consumed by their own desires;
Preparing food,
Sobbing alone in a garret,
With burning eyes bending over a needle,
Aimlessly reading the evening paper,
Dancing in the naked light of the café,
Laying out the dead,
Bringing a child to birth--
The sorrow, the torpor, the bitterness, the frail joy
Come up to us
Like a cold fog wrapping us round.
Oh in a hundred years
Not one of these blood-warm bodies
But will be worthless as clay.
The anguish, the torpor, the toil
Will have passed to other millions
Consumed by the same desires.
Ages will come and go,
Darkness will blot the lights
And the tower will be laid on the earth.
The sea will remain
Black and unchanging,
The stars will look down
Brilliant and unconcerned.
Beloved,
Tho' sorrow, futility, defeat
Surround us,
They cannot bear us down.
Here on the abyss of eternity
Love has crowned us
For a moment
Victors.
AT NIGHT
WE are apart; the city grows quiet between us,
She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,
The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,
Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.
Oh are you asleep, or Iying awake, my lover?
Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words,
I send you my thoughts-the air between us is laden,
My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.
THE YEARS
TO-NIGHT I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me--
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
The years went by and never knew
That each one brought me nearer you;
Their path was narrow and apart
And yet it led me to your heart--
Oh sensitive shy years, oh lonely years,
That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.
PEACE
PEACE flows into me
AS the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It ebbs not back like the sea.
I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.
I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies,--
You are my deepening skies,
Give me your stars to hold.
APRIL
THE roofs are shining from the rain,
The sparrows twitter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree--
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.
COME
COME, when the pale moon like a petal
Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,
Come with arms outstretched to take me,
Come with lips pursed up to cling.
Come, for life is a frail moth flying
Caught in the web of the years that pass,
And soon we two, so warm and eager
Will be as the gray stones in the grass.
MOODS
I AM the still rain falling,
Too tired for singing mirth--
Oh, be the green fields calling,
Oh, be for me the earth!
I am the brown bird pining
To leave the nest and fly--
Oh, be the fresh cloud shining,
Oh, be for me the sky!
APRIL SONG
WILLOW in your April gown
Delicate and gleaming,
Do you mind in years gone by
All my dreaming?
Spring was like a call to me
That I could not answer,
I was chained to loneliness,
I, the dancer.
Willow, twinkling in the sun,
Still your leaves and hear me,
I can answer spring at last,
Love is near me!
MAY DAY
THE shining line of motors,
The swaying motor-bus,
The prancing dancing horses
Are passing by for us.
The sunlight on the steeple,
The toys we stop to see,
The smiling passing people
Are all for you and me.
"I love you and I love you! "--
"And oh, I love you, too! "--
"All of the flower girl's lilies
Were only grown for you! "
Fifth Avenue and April
And love and lack of care--
The world is mad with music
Too beautiful to bear.
CROWNED
I WEAR a crown invisible and clear,
And go my lifted royal way apart
Since you have crowned me softly in your heart
With love that is half ardent, half austere;
And as a queen disguised might pass anear
The bitter crowd that barters in a mart,
Veiling her pride while tears of pity start,
I hide my glory thru a jealous fear.
My crown shall stay a sweet and secret thing
Kept pure with prayer at evensong and morn,
And when you come to take it from my head,
I shall not weep, nor will a word be said,
But I shall kneel before you, oh my king,
And bind my brow forever with a thorn.
TO A CASTILIAN SONG
WE held the book together timidly,
Whose antique music in an alien tongue
Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung
Beneath a high Castilian balcony.
I felt the lute strings' ancient ecstasy,
And while he read, my love-filled heart was stung,
And throbbed, as where an ardent bird has clung
The branches tremble on a blossomed tree.
Oh lady for whose sake the song was made,
Laid long ago in some still cypress shade,
Divided from the man who longed for thee,
Here in a land whose name he never heard,
His song brought love as April brings the bird,
And not a breath divides my love from me!
BROADWAY
THIS is the quiet hour; the theaters
Have gathered in their crowds, and steadily
The million lights blaze on for few to see,
Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers.
A woman waits with bag and shabby furs,
A somber man drifts by, and only we
Pass up the street unwearied, warm and free,
For over us the olden magic stirs.
Beneath the liquid splendor of the lights
We live a little ere the charm is spent;
This night is ours, of all the golden nights,
The pavement an enchanted palace floor,
And Youth the player on the viol, who sent
A strain of music thru an open door.
A WINTER BLUEJAY
CRISPLY the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstasy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstasy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstasy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Had not the music of our joy
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
"Oh look! "
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?
IN A RESTAURANT
THE darkened street was muffled with the snow,
The falling flakes had made your shoulders white,
And when we found a shelter from the night
Its glamor fell upon us like a blow.
The clash of dishes and the viol and bow
Mingled beneath the fever of the light.
Lying below us with a million lamps
Scattered in wise disorder like the stars.
We look down on them as God must look down
On constellations floating under Him
Tangled in clouds. . . . Come, then, and let us walk
Since we have reached the park. It is our garden,
All black and blossomless this winter night,
But we bring April with us, you and I;
We set the whole world on the trail of spring.
I think that every path we ever took
Has marked our footprints in mysterious fire,
Delicate gold that only fairies see.
When they wake up at dawn in hollow tree-trunks
And come out on the drowsy park, they look
Along the empty paths and say, "Oh, here
They went, and here, and here, and here! Come, see,
Here is their bench, take hands and let us dance
About it in a windy ring and make
A circle round it only they can cross
When they come back again! " . . . Look at the lake--
Do you remember how we watched the swans
That night in late October while they slept?
Swans must have stately dreams, I think. But now
The lake bears only thin reflected lights
That shake a little. How I long to take
One from the cold black water--new-made gold
To give you in your hand! And see, and see,
There is a star, deep in the lake, a star!
Oh, dimmer than a pearl--if you stoop down
Your hand could almost reach it up to me. . . .
There was a new frail yellow moon to-night--
I wish you could have had it for a cup
With stars like dew to fill it to the brim. . . .
How cold it is! Even the lights are cold;
They have put shawls of fog around them, see!
What if the air should grow so dimly white
That we would lose our way along the paths
Made new by walls of moving mist receding
The more we follow. . . . What a silver night!
That was our bench the time you said to me
The long new poem--but how different now,
How eerie with the curtain of the fog
Making it strange to all the friendly trees!
There is no wind, and yet great curving scrolls
Carve themselves, ever changing, in the mist.
Walk on a little, let me stand here watching
To see you, too, grown strange to me and far. . . .
I used to wonder how the park would be
If one night we could have it all alone--
No lovers with close arm-encircled waists
To whisper and break in upon our dreams.
And now we have it! Every wish comes true!
We are alone now in a fleecy world;
Even the stars have gone. We two alone!
[End of Love Songs. ]
{As an item of interest to the reader, the following, which was at the
end of this edition, is included. Only the advertisement for the same
author is included}.
By the same author
Rivers to the Sea
"There is hardly another American woman-poet whose poetry is generally
known and loved like that of Sara Teasdale. 'Rivers to the Sea', her
latest volume of lyrics, possesses the delicacy of imagery, the inward
illumination, the high vision that characterize the poetry that will
endure the test of time. "--'Review of Reviews'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is a book of sheer delight. . . . Her touch turns
everything to song. "--Edward J. Wheeler, in 'Current Opinion'.
"Sara Teasdale's lyrics have the clarity, the precision, the grace and
fragrance of flowers. "--Harriet Monroe, in 'Poetry'.
"Sara Teasdale has a genius for the song, for the perfect lyric, in
which the words seem to have fallen into place without art or
effort. "--Louis Untermeyer, in 'The Chicago Evening Post'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is the best book of pure lyrics that has appeared
in English since A. E. Housman's 'A Shropshire Lad'. "--William Marion
Reedy, in 'The Mirror'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is the most beautiful book of pure lyrics that has
come to my hand in years. "--'Los Angeles Graphic'.
"Sara Teasdale sings about love better than any other contemporary
American poet. "--'The Boston Transcript'.
"'Rivers to the Sea' is the most charming volume of poetry that has
appeared on either side of the Atlantic in a score of years. "--'St.
Louis Republic'.
Sara Teasdale (1884-1933):
Teasdale was born in St. Louis, Missouri, where she attended a school
that was founded by the grandfather of another great poet from St.
Louis--T. S. Eliot. She later associated herself more with New York
City.
Her first book of poems was "Sonnets to Duse" (1907), [at least one poem
in the current volume, "Faults", is from this book,] but "Helen of Troy"
(1911) was the true launch of her career, followed by "Rivers to the Sea"
(1915), "Love Songs" (1917), "Flame and Shadow" (1920) and more. Her
final volume, "Strange Victory", is considered by many to be predictive
of her suicide in 1933.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love Songs, by Sara Teasdale
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Title: Rivers to the Sea
Author: Sara Teasdale
Posting Date: July 30, 2008 [EBook #596]
Release Date: July, 1996
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIVERS TO THE SEA ***
Produced by Judith Boss
RIVERS TO THE SEA
BY
SARA TEASDALE
To
ERNST
CONTENTS
PART I
SPRING NIGHT
THE FLIGHT
NEW LOVE AND OLD
THE LOOK
SPRING
THE LIGHTED WINDOW
THE KISS
SWANS
THE OLD MAID
FROM THE WOOLWORTH TOWER
AT NIGHT
THE YEARS
PEACE
APRIL
COME
MOODS
APRIL SONG
MAY DAY
CROWNED
TO A CASTILIAN SONG
BROADWAY
A WINTER BLUEJAY
IN A RESTAURANT
JOY
IN A RAILROAD STATION
IN THE TRAIN
TO ONE AWAY
SONG
DEEP IN THE NIGHT
THE INDIA WHARF
I SHALL NOT CARE
DESERT POOLS
LONGING
PITY
AFTER PARTING
ENOUGH
ALCHEMY
FEBRUARY
MORNING
MAY NIGHT
DUSK IN JUNE
LOVE-FREE
SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE
IN A SUBWAY STATION
AFTER LOVE
DOORYARD ROSES
A PRAYER
PART II
INDIAN SUMMER
THE SEA WIND
THE CLOUD
THE POOR HOUSE
NEW YEAR'S DAWN-BROADWAY
THE STAR
DOCTORS
THE INN OF EARTH
IN THE CARPENTER'S SHOP
THE CARPENTER'S SON
THE MOTHER OF A POET
IN MEMORIAM F. O. S
TWILIGHT
SWALLOW FLIGHT
THOUGHTS
TO DICK, ON HIS SIXTH BIRTHDAY
TO ROSE
THE FOUNTAIN
THE ROSE
DREAMS
"I AM NOT YOURS"
PIERROT'S SONG
NIGHT IN ARIZONA
DUSK IN WAR TIME
SPRING IN WAR TIME
WHILE I MAY
DEBT
FROM THE NORTH
THE LIGHTS OF NEW YORK
SEA LONGING
THE RIVER
LEAVES
THE ANSWER
PART III
OVER THE ROOFS
A CRY
CHANCE
IMMORTAL
AFTER DEATH
TESTAMENT
GIFTS
PART IV
FROM THE SEA
VIGNETTES OVERSEAS
PART V
SAPPHO
----------------------------------
I
SPRING NIGHT
THE park is filled with night and fog,
The veils are drawn about the world,
The drowsy lights along the paths
Are dim and pearled.
Gold and gleaming the empty streets,
Gold and gleaming the misty lake,
The mirrored lights like sunken swords,
Glimmer and shake.
Oh, is it not enough to be
Here with this beauty over me?
My throat should ache with praise, and I
Should kneel in joy beneath the sky.
Oh, beauty are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love
With youth, a singing voice and eyes
To take earth's wonder with surprise?
Why have I put off my pride,
Why am I unsatisfied,
I for whom the pensive night
Binds her cloudy hair with light,
I for whom all beauty burns
Like incense in a million urns?
Oh, beauty, are you not enough?
Why am I crying after love?
THE FLIGHT
LOOK back with longing eyes and know that I will follow,
Lift me up in your love as a light wind lifts a swallow,
Let our flight be far in sun or windy rain--
BUT WHAT IF I HEARD MY FIRST LOVE CALLING ME AGAIN?
Hold me on your heart as the brave sea holds the foam,
Take me far away to the hills that hide your home;
Peace shall thatch the roof and love shall latch the door--
BUT WHAT IF I HEARD MY FIRST LOVE CALLING ME ONCE MORE?
NEW LOVE AND OLD
IN my heart the old love
Struggled with the new;
It was ghostly waking
All night thru.
Dear things, kind things,
That my old love said,
Ranged themselves reproachfully
Round my bed.
But I could not heed them,
For I seemed to see
The eyes of my new love
Fixed on me.
Old love, old love,
How can I be true?
Shall I be faithless to myself
Or to you?
THE LOOK
STREPHON kissed me in the spring,
Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
And never kissed at all.
Strephon's kiss was lost in jest,
Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
Haunts me night and day.
SPRING
IN Central Park the lovers sit,
On every hilly path they stroll,
Each thinks his love is infinite,
And crowns his soul.
But we are cynical and wise,
We walk a careful foot apart,
You make a little joke that tries
To hide your heart.
Give over, we have laughed enough;
Oh dearest and most foolish friend,
Why do you wage a war with love
To lose your battle in the end?
THE LIGHTED WINDOW
HE SAID:
"In the winter dusk
When the pavements were gleaming with rain,
I walked thru a dingy street
Hurried, harassed,
Thinking of all my problems that never are
solved.
Suddenly out of the mist, a flaring gas-jet
Shone from a huddled shop.
I saw thru the bleary window
A mass of playthings:
False-faces hung on strings,
Valentines, paper and tinsel,
Tops of scarlet and green,
Candy, marbles, jacks--
A confusion of color
Pathetically gaudy and cheap.
All of my boyhood
Rushed back.
Once more these things were treasures
Wildly desired.
With covetous eyes I looked again at the marbles,
The precious agates, the pee-wees, the chinies--
Then I passed on.
In the winter dusk,
The pavements were gleaming with rain;
There in the lighted window
I left my boyhood. "
THE KISS
BEFORE YOU kissed me only winds of heaven
Had kissed me, and the tenderness of rain--
Now you have come, how can I care for kisses
Like theirs again?
I sought the sea, she sent her winds to meet me,
They surged about me singing of the south--
I turned my head away to keep still holy
Your kiss upon my mouth.
And swift sweet rains of shining April weather
Found not my lips where living kisses are;
I bowed my head lest they put out my glory
As rain puts out a star.
I am my love's and he is mine forever,
Sealed with a seal and safe forevermore--
Think you that I could let a beggar enter
Where a king stood before?
SWANS
NIGHT is over the park, and a few brave stars
Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,
The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars
That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold.
We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,
And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;
How still you are--your gaze is on my face--
We watch the swans and never a word is said.
THE OLD MAID
I SAW her in a Broadway car,
The woman I might grow to be;
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me.
Her hair was dull and drew no light
And yet its color was as mine;
Her eyes were strangely like my eyes
Tho' love had never made them shine.
Her body was a thing grown thin,
Hungry for love that never came;
Her soul was frozen in the dark
Unwarmed forever by love's flame.
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me,--
His eyes were magic to defy
The woman I shall never be.
FROM THE WOOLWORTH TOWER
VIVID with love, eager for greater beauty
Out of the night we come
Into the corridor, brilliant and warm.
A metal door slides open,
And the lift receives us.
Swiftly, with sharp unswerving flight
The car shoots upward,
And the air, swirling and angry,
Howls like a hundred devils.
Past the maze of trim bronze doors,
Steadily we ascend.
I cling to you
Conscious of the chasm under us,
And a terrible whirring deafens my ears.
The flight is ended.
We pass thru a door leading onto the ledge--
Wind, night and space
Oh terrible height
Why have we sought you?
Oh bitter wind with icy invisible wings
Why do you beat us?
Why would you bear us away?
We look thru the miles of air,
The cold blue miles between us and the city,
Over the edge of eternity we look
On all the lights,
A thousand times more numerous than the stars;
Oh lines and loops of light in unwound chains
That mark for miles and miles
The vast black mazy cobweb of the streets;
Near us clusters and splashes of living gold
That change far off to bluish steel
Where the fragile lights on the Jersey shore
Tremble like drops of wind-stirred dew.
The strident noises of the city
Floating up to us
Are hallowed into whispers.
Ferries cross thru the darkness
Weaving a golden thread into the night,
Their whistles weird shadows of sound.
We feel the millions of humanity beneath us,--
The warm millions, moving under the roofs,
Consumed by their own desires;
Preparing food,
Sobbing alone in a garret,
With burning eyes bending over a needle,
Aimlessly reading the evening paper,
Dancing in the naked light of the café,
Laying out the dead,
Bringing a child to birth--
The sorrow, the torpor, the bitterness, the frail joy
Come up to us
Like a cold fog wrapping us round.
Oh in a hundred years
Not one of these blood-warm bodies
But will be worthless as clay.
The anguish, the torpor, the toil
Will have passed to other millions
Consumed by the same desires.
Ages will come and go,
Darkness will blot the lights
And the tower will be laid on the earth.
The sea will remain
Black and unchanging,
The stars will look down
Brilliant and unconcerned.
Beloved,
Tho' sorrow, futility, defeat
Surround us,
They cannot bear us down.
Here on the abyss of eternity
Love has crowned us
For a moment
Victors.
AT NIGHT
WE are apart; the city grows quiet between us,
She hushes herself, for midnight makes heavy her eyes,
The tangle of traffic is ended, the cars are empty,
Five streets divide us, and on them the moonlight lies.
Oh are you asleep, or Iying awake, my lover?
Open your dreams to my love and your heart to my words,
I send you my thoughts-the air between us is laden,
My thoughts fly in at your window, a flock of wild birds.
THE YEARS
TO-NIGHT I close my eyes and see
A strange procession passing me--
The years before I saw your face
Go by me with a wistful grace;
They pass, the sensitive shy years,
As one who strives to dance, half blind with tears.
The years went by and never knew
That each one brought me nearer you;
Their path was narrow and apart
And yet it led me to your heart--
Oh sensitive shy years, oh lonely years,
That strove to sing with voices drowned in tears.
PEACE
PEACE flows into me
AS the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It ebbs not back like the sea.
I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.
I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies,--
You are my deepening skies,
Give me your stars to hold.
APRIL
THE roofs are shining from the rain,
The sparrows twitter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree--
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.
COME
COME, when the pale moon like a petal
Floats in the pearly dusk of spring,
Come with arms outstretched to take me,
Come with lips pursed up to cling.
Come, for life is a frail moth flying
Caught in the web of the years that pass,
And soon we two, so warm and eager
Will be as the gray stones in the grass.
MOODS
I AM the still rain falling,
Too tired for singing mirth--
Oh, be the green fields calling,
Oh, be for me the earth!
I am the brown bird pining
To leave the nest and fly--
Oh, be the fresh cloud shining,
Oh, be for me the sky!
APRIL SONG
WILLOW in your April gown
Delicate and gleaming,
Do you mind in years gone by
All my dreaming?
Spring was like a call to me
That I could not answer,
I was chained to loneliness,
I, the dancer.
Willow, twinkling in the sun,
Still your leaves and hear me,
I can answer spring at last,
Love is near me!
MAY DAY
THE shining line of motors,
The swaying motor-bus,
The prancing dancing horses
Are passing by for us.
The sunlight on the steeple,
The toys we stop to see,
The smiling passing people
Are all for you and me.
"I love you and I love you! "--
"And oh, I love you, too! "--
"All of the flower girl's lilies
Were only grown for you! "
Fifth Avenue and April
And love and lack of care--
The world is mad with music
Too beautiful to bear.
CROWNED
I WEAR a crown invisible and clear,
And go my lifted royal way apart
Since you have crowned me softly in your heart
With love that is half ardent, half austere;
And as a queen disguised might pass anear
The bitter crowd that barters in a mart,
Veiling her pride while tears of pity start,
I hide my glory thru a jealous fear.
My crown shall stay a sweet and secret thing
Kept pure with prayer at evensong and morn,
And when you come to take it from my head,
I shall not weep, nor will a word be said,
But I shall kneel before you, oh my king,
And bind my brow forever with a thorn.
TO A CASTILIAN SONG
WE held the book together timidly,
Whose antique music in an alien tongue
Once rose among the dew-drenched vines that hung
Beneath a high Castilian balcony.
I felt the lute strings' ancient ecstasy,
And while he read, my love-filled heart was stung,
And throbbed, as where an ardent bird has clung
The branches tremble on a blossomed tree.
Oh lady for whose sake the song was made,
Laid long ago in some still cypress shade,
Divided from the man who longed for thee,
Here in a land whose name he never heard,
His song brought love as April brings the bird,
And not a breath divides my love from me!
BROADWAY
THIS is the quiet hour; the theaters
Have gathered in their crowds, and steadily
The million lights blaze on for few to see,
Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers.
A woman waits with bag and shabby furs,
A somber man drifts by, and only we
Pass up the street unwearied, warm and free,
For over us the olden magic stirs.
Beneath the liquid splendor of the lights
We live a little ere the charm is spent;
This night is ours, of all the golden nights,
The pavement an enchanted palace floor,
And Youth the player on the viol, who sent
A strain of music thru an open door.
A WINTER BLUEJAY
CRISPLY the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstasy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstasy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstasy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Had not the music of our joy
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
"Oh look! "
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?
IN A RESTAURANT
THE darkened street was muffled with the snow,
The falling flakes had made your shoulders white,
And when we found a shelter from the night
Its glamor fell upon us like a blow.
The clash of dishes and the viol and bow
Mingled beneath the fever of the light.
