Rhymes to be traded for bread

RHYMES TO BE TRADED FOR BREAD

BEING NEW VERSES BY NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY, SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS, JUNE, 1912.
PRINTED EXPRESSLY AS A SV INSTITUTE FOR MONEY.

THIS BOOK IS TO BE USED IN EXCHANGE FOR THE NECESSITIES OF LIFE ON A TRAMP-
JOURNEY FROM THE AUTHOR'S HOME TOWN, THROUGH THE WEST AND BACK, DURING
WHICH HE WILL OBSERVE THE FOLLOWING RULES: (1) KEEP AWAY FROM THE CITIES.
(2) KEEP AWAY FROM THE RAILROADS. (3) HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MONEY.
CARRY NO BAGGAGE. (4) ASK FOR DINNER ABOUT QUARTER AFTER ELEVEN. (5) ASK
FOR SUPPER, LODGING AND BREAKFAST ABOUT QUARTER OF FIVE. (6) TRAVEL ALONE.
(7) BE NEAT, TRUTHFUL, CIVIL AND ON THE SQUARE. (8) PREACH THE GOSPEL OF BEAUTY.

IN ORDER TO CARRY OUT THE LAST RULE THERE WILL BE THREE EXCEPTIONS TO THE
RULE AGAINST BAGGAGE. (1) THE AUTHOR WILL CARRY A BRIEF PRINTED STATEMENT,
CALLED "THE GOSPEL OF BEAUTY." (2) HE WILL CARRY THIS BOOK OF RHYMES FOR
DISTRIBUTION. (3) ALSO HE WILL CARRY A SMALL PORTFOLIO WITH PICTURES, ETC.,
CHOSEN TO GIVE AN OUTLINE OF HIS VIEW OF THE HISTORY OF ART, ESPECIALLY AS IT
APPLIES TO AMERICA.

INTRODUCTION

UPON RETURNING TO THE COUNTRY

ROAD.

EVEN THE SHREWD AND BITTER,
GNARLED BY THE OLD WORLD'S GREED,
CHERISHED THE STRANGER SOFTLY
SEEING HIS UTTER NEED.
SHELTER AND PATIENT HEARING,
THESE WERE THEIR GIFTS TO HIM,
TO THE MINSTREL GRIMLY BEGGING
AS THE SUNSET-FIRE GREW DIM.
THE RICH SAID "YOU ARE WELCOME."
YEA, EVEN THE RICH WERE GOOD.
HOW STRANGE THAT IN THEIR FEASTING
HIS SONGS WTERE UNDERSTOOD.'
THE DOORS OF THE POOR WERE OPEN,
THE POOR WHO HAD WANDERED TOO,
WHO HAD SLEPT WITH NE'ER A ROOF-TREE
UNDER THE WIND AND DEW.
THE MINDS OF THE POOR WERE OPEN,
THERE DARK MISTRUST WAS DEAD.
THEY LOVED HIS \VIZARD STORIES,
THEY BOUGHT HIS RHYMES WITH BREAD.
THOSE WERE HIS DAYS OF GLORY,
OF FAITH IN HIS FELLOW-MEN.
THEREFORE, TODAY THE SINGER . .

TURNS BEGGAR ONCE AGAIN.

HE BLEW ME TO A WINDLAND BUSHJ
WITH SPEED AND JOY WE FLEW.

THE GREAT BUSH BLOOMED WITH PARCH
MENTS FINE, OF SONGS THAT FEED
THE SOUL,

ALL NEW, THAT OUR DEAR EARTH SHALL
HEAR, WHEN POETS REACH THEIB
GOAL.

WHEN OUR GROWN CHILDREN, BREATHING

FIRE, SHALL JUSTIFY ALL TIME,
BY HYMNS OF LIVING SILVER, SONGS

WITH SUNRISE IN THE RHYME.
I WISH THAT I HAD LEARNED BY HEART

SOME LYRICS READ THAT DAY,
I KNEW NOT 'TWAS A GIANT HOUR. AND

SPENT IT ALL IN PLAY.
WINDLAND GLEAMS SO DEWY-WHITE, SO

FULL OF CRYSTAL PEACE,
AND EVERY LEAF A SILKEN HARP, WHOSE

MURMURS WILL NOT CEASE.
I GORGED THE HONEY FROM THE CUPS OF

WILD-FLOWERS ALL ABOUT,
LAUGHING WHEN THE WIZARD LAUGHED,

AND PUT THE GNATS TO ROUT.
I READ ONCE MORE, THEN SLEPT AWHILE,

THEN WOKE ON EARTH AGAIN,
I WISH THOSE SCROLLS WERE MINE THAT

I MIGHT BRING THEM UNTO MEN!

VERSES OF FANTASY
AND DESIRE

THE WIZARD WIND.
THE WIZARD WIND'S A FRIEND OF MINE,

MOST INTIMATE, IN TRUTH,
HE WHISTLES SORROW HALF AWAY, HE

GIVES ME GOLDEN YOUTH.
AND FREE AS THAT SMALL BIRD THAT

EATS THE WHEAT-EAR IN THE SHEAF
I AM NO LONGER MAN, BUT CLOUD, OR

TUMBLED MAPLE-LEAF.
ONCE HE TRANSFOKMED ME TO A BEE,

HUNGRY FOR HONEY-DEW,

THE KING OF YELLOW BUTTER
FLIES.

(EARLY SPRING.)
THE KING OF YELLOW BUTTERFLIES NOW

ORDERS FORTH HIS MEN,
ME SAYS, "THE TIME is ALMOST HERE

WHEN TIOJLETS BLOOM AGAIN."
ADOWN THE ROAD THE FICKLE ROUT GOES

FLASHING PROUD AND BOLD,
THEY SHIVER BY THE SHALLOW POOLS

AND WHIMPER OF THE COLD.
THEY DRINK AND DRINK. 'TIS A PRE
TENCE. THEY LOVE TO POSE AND
PREEN,

EACH POOL IS BUT A LOOKING-GLASS
WHERE THEIB SWEET WINGS ABE

SEEN.

THEY'RE GENTLEMEN — ADVENTURERS,

THEY'RE GIPSIES EVERY WHIT,
THEY LIVE ON WHAT THEY STEAL. THEIR

WINGS BY BRLABS ARE FRAYED A BIT.
THEIR LOVES ARE LIGHT. THEY HAVE NO

HOUSE. AND IF IT RAINS TODAY
THEY'LL CLIMB INTO YOUR CATTLE-SHED,

AND HIDE THEM IN THE HAY.

THE GRAVE OF THE RIGHTEOUS

KITTEN.
HEBE LIES A KITTEN GOOD, WHO KEPT

A KITTEN'S PROPER PLACE.

HE STOLE NO PANTRY EATABLES,

NOR SCRATCHED THE BABY'S FACE.

HE LET THE ALLEY-CATS ALONE,

HE HAD NO YOWLING VICE.

HIS SHIRT WAS ALWAYS LAUNDRIED WELL,

HE FREED THE HOUSE OF MICE.

UNTIL HIS DEATH HE HAD NOT CAUSED

HIS LITTLE MISTRESS TEARS,

HE WORE HIS RIBBON PRETTILY,

HE WASHED BEHIND HIS EARS.

AN INDIAN SUMMER DAY ON THE

PRAIRIE.

(IN THE BEGINNING.)
THE SUN IS A HUNTRESS YOUNG,
THE SUN IS A RED, RED JOY,
THE SUN IS AN INDIAN GIRL,

OF THE TRIBE OF THE ILLINOIS.

(MID-MORNING.)

THE SUN IS A SMOULDERING FIRE,
THAT CREEPS THROUGH THE HIGH GREY

PLAIN

AND LEAVES NOT A BUSH OF CLOUD
TO BLOSSOM WITH FLOWERS OF RAIN.

(NOON.)

THE SUN IS A WOUNDED DEER,
THAT TREADS PALE GRASS IX THE SKIES.
SHAKING HIS GOLDEN HORNS,
FLASHING HIS BALEFUL EYES.

(SUNSET.)

THE Sl'X IS AN EAGLE OLD,
THERE IN "THE WINDLESS WEST
ATOP OF THE SPIRIT-CLIFFS
HE BUILDS HIM A CRIMSON NEST.

WHY I FLED FROM DUTY.
I HAVE LOST YOU, LITTLE MISS DUTY.
I TOI.D YOU MY I.CST AND LOVE,

LUST LIKE THE PULSE OF THE TIGER

THE HUNGER OF HAWK FOR DOVE.

I HAVE LOST YOU, LITTLE MISS DUTY,

THOUMI I HROn.HT YOU MYSELF QUITE

WHOLE,

WHITE BODY AND BLACK DESIRE

CONSCIENCE, AND BREATH, AND SOUL.
"YOU ARE NAKED," SAID LITTLE MISS

DUTY,

"<,o HIDE IN Till-. ( AVES AND HILLS,
FOR I MUST BE GILDING COBWEBS,
I AM CHAINED IN THE COBWEB MILLS.

MY SILK BUYS BREAD AND BUTTER
AND PAYS MY DEBT ON THE FARM."
SO I STOLE HER SHOE FOR REMEMBERANCE
:AND FLED LEST I DO HER HARM.

MACHINERY.

OH, EGYPT QUEEN OF EGYPT

WHEN I WAS KING OF BIRDS

YOU CALLED ME FROM THE TREETOPS

WITH MYSTIC COPTIC WORDS.

YOU WHISTLED AND YOU WHISPERED,

THEN MOCKED ME, FICKLE QUEEN.

YOU SAID TO AI«L MY SOUL TALK.1

"A BIRD IS A MACHINE."

YOUR TRIBE WAS OLD IN SCIENCE-,

YOU SAID TO ME — "YOUR WINGS

ABE RODS AND STRINGS AND HINGES ;

THE PLACE IN YOU THAT SINGS.

"IS A TINY WILLOW WHISTLE,

QUITE WELL DEVISED, BUT STILL

A SISTRUM MAKES MORE MUSIC:
A FEATHER'S BUT A QUILL;

"A CLAW IS BUT A NEEDLE:

A CRAW, A MILL FOB CORN;

YOUR HEART IS BUT A LITTLE PUMP,

YOUR SOUL WAS NEVER BORN."

BUT THEN, I SANG SO DESPERATELY ....
I MADE FAIR EGYPT SIGH: —
"OH DOWNY SOUL IMMORTAL!
OH BIRD THAT CANNOT DIE!"

LOVE AND LAW.

TRUE LOVE IS FOUNDED IN ROCKS OF RE
MEMBER ANCE,

IN STONES OF FORBEARANCE AND MORTAR
OF PAIN.

THE WORKMAN LAYS WEARILY GRANITE
ON GRANITE,

AND BLEEDS FOR HIS CASTLE 'MID SUN
SHINE AND RAIN.

LOVE IS NOT VELVET, NOT ALL OF IT VEL
VET,

NOT ALL OF IT BANNERS, NOT GOLD-LEAF
ALONE.

'TIS STERN AS THE AGES, AND OLD AS
RELIGION,

WITH PATTEN <-E ITS WATCHWORD AND
I AW FOR ITS THRONE.

THE FLIGHT OF MONA LISA.
UEIXG THE SECRET HISTORY OF THE
STEALING OF LEONARDO DA VINCl'S MAS-
il.lMMElj: FKO.M THE GALLERY OF THE
LOUVRE.
ALWAYS KNTTIKONKD, AND EVER WISE AND

STILL * * *
KIVERS OF STARING. STRENUOUS FOLK

\VE.\T I IV.
ONLY I IIK WISE AND RIPE OF SOUL

WOULD PAUSE,
MARKING THE SHADOWED MAGIC OF YOUR

EVE * * *
NOW MOIJS UNDO VOUK NAME WITH

CLACKING TONGUE.
TOO DULL TO KNOW THE LADY THAT YOU

ARE,

IGNORANT OF THE RENAISSANCE SO SWEET
OF WHICH YOU WERE THE CULMINATING

STAR —
CROWDS, TO WHOM BEAUTY IS A HIDDEN

BOOK —

THOUGH THEY GO SEEK IT TILL THEIR

EYES ARE RED;
MEX TO WHOM LEONARDO IS UNKNOWN

OR BUT A DUSTY FAME, A LONG TIME

DEAD:

THESE SAY THAT YOU WERE COURTED BY

A THIEF,
NAY, RATHER,. AFTER HALF A THOUSAND

YEARS,
YOUR SMILE TOOK ON AN UNEXPECTED

BLOOM,
DESIRE AROSE THAT MOVED YOU NIGH TO

TEARS.
YOU FLASHED THAT PRINCESS-GLANCE

THAT WAS COMMAND—

"CARRY ME WITH YOU YOUTH, i LEAVE

THIS PLACE.

I GROW LOVE-HUNGRY 'MID THE CEN
TURIES,

YOURS IS THE DESTINED, FLUSHED ADOR
ING FACE!"

AH, WHAT A BEAUTEOUS, WICKED THING

IT WAS,
THIS RECKLESS HOPE OF YOURS THAT

STUNG HIM SO

TILL, SCORNING YOUR FAIR PALACE AND

YOUR GUARD,
HE HALED YOU TO SOME LONELY PLACE

AGLOW.
WHY DID THIS SUDDEN THIRST OF YOURS

AWAKE?

CAN FEVER MUTINY IN VEINS SO OLD?
WHAT, IN HIS GESTURE TAMED YOUR

SPIRIT HIGH?
WHAT, IN HIS FIGURE MADE YOUR

GLANCES BOLD?
TILL, DAY BY DAY YOUR LONG LOOK

WITCHING HIM,
HIS FLAGGING PULSES KINDLED TO SPICED

FIRE,
AND REACHED AT LAST THE RENAISSANCE

SUPREME
ATTAINED THE HEIGHT OF FLORENTINE

DESIRE?

i KNOW 'TWAS LEONARDO COME TO EARTH

IN MASQUERADING FANCY DRESSED SO
GAY.

TRANSFORMED INTO A CARELESS ARTIST-
BOY,

A LOAFING STUDENT WASTING OUT THE
DAY.

AH, GROWN SO WEARY OF HIGH HEAVEN'S
STREETS !

AND OF THE GLITTERING SAINTS TOO-
RIGHTEOUS GRACE!

WEARY OF GODLY SUNSHINE WITHOUT
END!

SEEKING AGAIN THE SHADOWS OF YOUR
FACE!

YOU DID NOT KNOW HIM FOR HIMSELF

UNTIL

YOU FLED, WITHIN HIS ARMS. ADOWN
THE STAIR,

THEN, (AND YOU SAW THE GLEAMING

PAUIS STREKT),

HE STOOD A GREY WISE MAN BESIDE YOU
THERE.

A WANDERING JEW, TO YOU HIS HEART'S
OLD HOME,

HE CAME, AND GAVE YOUR SOUL AT LAST
SURPRISE,

HE STRANGELY BROUGHT A CHILD-ASTON
ISHMENT,

A NOBLE MAIDEN-WONDER TO YOUR EYES.

HE RAVISHED YOU AWAY TO HEAVEN
WITH HIM,

STILL YEARNING FOR YOUR BITTER KISS
AGAIN

YOUR BITTER, GENTLE, DOVE-LIKE WEARI
NESS,

AND FOLLIES GARNERED 'MID THE SONS
OF MEN.

AN APOLOGY FOR THE BOTTLE
VOLCANIC.

SOMETIMES I DIP MY PEN AND FIND THE
BOTTLE FULL OF FIRE,

THE SALAMANDERS FLYING FORTH I CAN
NOT BUT ADMIRE.

ITS ETNA, OR VESUVIUS, IF THOSE BIG
THINGS WERE SMALL,

AND THEN 'TIS BUT ITSELF AGAIN, AND
DOES NOT SMOKE AT ALL.

AND SO MY BLOOD GROWS COLD. I SAY,

"THE BOTTLE HELD BUT INK,
AND, IF YOU THOUGHT IT OTHERWISE,

THE WORSER FOR YOUR THINK.."
AND THEN, JUST AS I THROW MY SCRIB
BLED PAPER ON THE FLOOR
THE BOTTLE SAYS "FE, FI, FO, FUM," AND

STEAMS AND SHOUTS SOME MORE.
OH, SAD DECEIVING INK, AS BAD AS LIQUOR
IN ITS WAY

ALL DEMONS OF A BOTTLE SIZE HAVE

PRANCED FROM YOU TODAY,
AND SEIZED MY PEN FOR HOBBY-HORSE

AS WITCHES RIDE A BROOM,
AND LEFT A TRAIL OF BRIMSTONE WORDS

AND BLOTS AND GOBS OF GLOOM.
AND YET WHEN I AM EXTRA GOOD AND

SAY MY PRAYERS AT NIGHT,
AND MIND MY MA, AND DO THE CHORES,

AND SPEAK TO FOLKS POLITE,
MY BOTTLE SPREADS A RAINBOW-MIST, AND

FROM THE VAPOR FINE
TEX THOUSAND TROOPS FROM FAIRYLAND

COME RIDING IN A LINE.
I'VE SEEN THEM ON THEIR CHARGERS

RACE AROUND MY STUDY CHAIR,
THEY OPENED WIDE THE WINDOW AND

RODE FORTH UPON THE AIR.
THE ARMY WIDENED AS IT WENT, AND

INTO MYRIADS GREW,
OH, HOW THE LANCES SHIMMERED, HOW

THE SILVERY TRUMPETS BLEW!

THE MAGICAL VILLAGE

THE PATIENT WITCH.
A LADY CALLED THE PATIENT WITCH,
LIVED NEAR US LONG AGO.
»l K SERVANTS GAVE HEB OFF AND ON
A BIT OF COIN OR SO,
TO TELL THEM WHAT THEIR DREAMS

COULD MEAN,

AND IF THEIR LOVES WERE TRUEj
TO STUDY OUT THEIR PALMS AND SAY —
"A PALACE WAITS FOR YOU/'
AND THEN SHE ALWAYS WAS POLITE,
AND SAID, "HOW DO YOU FARE?
I HOPE YOUR LITTLE GIRL IS WELL,"
WITH A MOST PLEASANT AIR.
SHE MUMBLED MUCH, WE KNEW NOT

WHAT —

EACH AFTERNOON WOULD WAIT
BESIDE THE GUIDE-POST TO THE WEST
FOR SOME EXALTED FATE.
SHE LOOKED DOWN EVERY ROAD AS

THOUGH

A STATELY COACH WAS DUE,
TO BEAR HER HOME TO SOMEWHERE

ELSE,

TO FOLKS SHE REALLY KNEW.
"ONE EVENING," SAID A LITTLE BOY,
THE ONLY ONE A NIGH,
"SHE TOLD ME PRETTY STORIES, AND
SHE KISSED MY CURLS GOODBY,
AND TURNED INTO A SWAN AND SPREAD
HER WHITE WINGS BIG AND WIDE.
AND FLEW AND FLEW INTO THE SKY!
AND I CAME HOME AND CRIED."

EDEN IN WINTER.

SUPPOSED TO BE CHANTED TO SOME RUDE
INSTRUMENT AT A MODERN FIRE
PLACE.

CHANT WE THE STORY NOW
THOUGH IN A HOUSE WE SLEEP.
THOUGH BY A HEARTH OF COALS
VIGIL TONIGHT WE KEEP.
CHANT WE THE STORY NOW,
OF THE VAGUE LOVE WE KNEW
WHEN I FROM OUT THE SEA
ROSE TO THE FEET OF YOU.
BIRD FROM THE CLIFFS YOU CA1MK
FLEW THROUGH THE SNOW TO M K.
FACING THE ICY BLAST
THERE BY THE ICY SEA.
HOW DID I REACH YOUR FEET?

WHY SHOULD I AT THE END

HOLD OUT HALF FROZEN HANDS
DUMBLY TO YOU MY FRIEND?

NE'ER HAD i WOMAN SEEN,
NE'ER HAD i SEEN A FLAME.

THERE YOU PILED FAGOTS ON

HEAT ROSE THE BLAST TO TAME.

THERE BY THE CAVE-DOOR DARK
COMFORTING ME YOU CRIED—
WAILED O'ER MY WOUNDED KNEE
WEPT FOR MY ROCK-TORN SIDK.
UP FROM THE SOUTH I TRAILED—
LEFT REGIONS FIERCE AND FAIR!
LEFT ALL THE JUNGLE-TREES
F.KIT THE RED TIGER'S LAIR.

HREAM LEI), 1 SCARCE KNEW WHY,
INTO YOUR NORTH I TROD—
NE'ER HAD 1 KNOWN THE SNOW.
OR THE FROST-BLASTED SOD.
OH HOW THE FLAKES CAME DOWN!
OH HOW THE FIRE BURNED HIGH!
.STRANGE THING TO SEE HE WAS
THROUGH HIS DRY TWIGS WOULD FLY.

CREEP THERE AWHILE AND SLEEP

THEN WAKE AND BARK FOR FIGHT —
BITING IF I TOO NEAR,
CAME TO HIS EYE SO BRIGHT.
THEN WITH A WILL YOU FED
WOOD TO HIS HUNGRY TONGUE.

THEN HE DID LEAP AND SING

DANCING THE CLOUDS AMONG.
TURNING THE NIGHT TO NOON,
STINGING MY EYES WITH LIGHT,
MAKING THE SNOW RETREAT,
MAKING THE CAVE-HOUSE BRIGHT.
THERE WERE DRY FAGOTS PILED,
NUTS AND DRY LEAVES AND ROOTS.
STORES THERE OF FURS AND HIDES.
SWEET-BARKS AND GRAINS AND FRUITS.
THERE WRAPPED IN FUR WE LAY'

HALF-BURNED, HALF-FROZEN STILL —
NE'ER WILL MY SOUL FORGET
ALL THE NIGHT'S BITTER CHILL.
WE HAD NOT LEARNED TO SPEAK
I WAS TO YOU A STRANGE
WOLFLING OR WOUNDED FAWN
LOST FROM HIS FOREST-RANGE.

THIRSTING FOR BLOODY MEAT
OUT AT THE DAWN WE WENT,
WEIGHED WITH OUR PREY AT EVE.
HOME-CAME WE ALL FORESPENT.
COMRADES AND HUNTERS TRIED

ERE WE WERE MAID AND MAN

NOT TILL THE SPRING AWOKE
LAUGHTER AND SPEECH BEGAN.
WHINING LIKE FOREST DOGS,
RUSTLING LIKE BUDDING TREES,
BUBBLING LIKE THAWING SPRINGS.
HUMMING LIKE LITTLE BEES,
CROONING LIKE MAYTIME TIDES,
CHATTERING PARROT WORDS,
CRYING THE PANTHER'S CRY,
CHIRPING LIKE MATING BIRDS —
THUS, THUS, WE LEARNED TO SPEAK,
WHO, 'MID THE SNOWS WERE DUMB,
NOR DID WE LEARN TO KISS
UNTIL THE SPRIN(i HAD COME.

THE TOWER BUILDER.
IN AN IMPERIAL HOUR
WITH COUNTENANCE BENK;N.
VENUS THE HOLY CAME
AND LAID KIND HANDS IN MINE.
HANDS I CANNOT FORGET.
NEVER A WORD SHE SPOKE,
SHE GAVE HER FINGER-TIPS
AND MY DEAD SOUL AWOKE.
I LEARNED WHY STRO.Nd \1K.N TOIL.
AND WHY BRIGHT CITIES RISE.
I HARDLY TOUCHED HER HAIR,
AND SCARCELY SAW HER EYES.

THOUGH SHE IS GONE I BUILD

BY HER STRONG HANDS ALL DAY.

I HAVE THE KEY TO LIFE

A POWER WORDS CANNOT SAY.

QUEEN MAB IN THE VILLAGE.
OH, ONCE I LOVED A FAIRY,
QUEEN MAB IT WAS. HER VOICE
WAS LIKE A LITTLE FOUNTAIN
THAT BIDS THE BIRDS REJOICE.
HER FACE WAS WISE AND SOLEMN,
HER HAIR WAS BROWN AND FINE.
HER DRESS WAS PANSY VELVET,
A BUTTERFLY DESIGN.
TO SEE HER HOVER ROUND ME
OR WALK THE HILLS OF AIR,
AWAKENED LOVE'S DEEP PULSES
AND BOYHOOD'S FIRST DESPAIR;
A PASSION LIKE A SWORD-BLADE
THAT PIERCED ME THROUGH AND

THROUGH,

HER FINGERS HEALED THE SORROW
HER WHISPER WOULD RENEW.
WE SIGHED AND REIGNED AND FEASTED
WITHIN A HOLLOW TREE,
WE VOWED OUR LOVE WAS BOUNDLESS
ETERNAL AS THE SEA.
SHE BANISHED FROM HER KINGDOM
THE MORTAL BOY I GREW —
SO TALL AND CRUDE AND NOISY,
I KILLED GRASSHOPPERS TOO.
I THREW BIG ROCKS AT PIGEONS,
I PLUCKED AND TORE APART
THE WEEPING, WAILING DAISIES,
AND BROKE MY LADY'S HEART.
AT LENGTH I GREW TO MANHOOD,
I SCARCELY COULD BELIEVE,
I EVER LOVED THE LADY,
OB CAUSED HER COURT TO GRIEVE,
UNTIL A DREAM CAME TO ME

ONE BLEAK FIRST NIGHT OF SPRING

'ERE TIDES OF APPLE BLOSSOMS

ROLLED IN O'ER EVERYTHING,

WHILE RAIN AND SLEET AND SN'OWBANKS

WERE STILL A VEXING MEN,

'ERE ROBIN AND HIS COMRADES

WERE NESTING ONCE AGAIN.

i SAW MAB'S BOOK OF JUDGMENT —

ITS CLASPS WERE IRON AND STONE,
ITS LEAVES WERE MAMMOTH IVORY,

ITS BOARDS WERE MAMMOTH BONE,

HID IN HER SEASIDE MOUNTAINS,

FORGOTTEN OR UNKEPT,

BENEATH ITS MIGHTY COVERS

HER WRATH AGAINST ME SLEPT.

AND DEEPLY I REPENTED

OF BRASH AND BOYISH CRIME,

OF MURDER OF THINGS LOVELY

NOW AND IN OLDEN TIME.

I CURSED MY VAIN AMBITION,

MY WOULD-BE WORLDLY DAYS,

AND CRAVED THE PATHS OF WONDER,

OF DEWY DAWNS AND FAYS.

I CRIED, "OUR LOVE WAS BOUNDLESS

ETERNAL AS THE SEA,

OH, QUEEN, REVERSE THE SENTENCE,

COME BACK AND MASTER ME!"

THE ROOK WAS BY THE CLIFF-SIDE

UPON ITS EDGE UPRIGHT.

I LAID ME BY IT SOFTLY,

AND WEPT THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT.

AND THERE AT DAWN I SAW IT,

NO BOOK NOW BUT A DOOR,

UPON ITS PANELS WRITTEN

"JUDGMENT is NO MORE."

THE BOLT FLEW BACK WITH THUNDER,

I SAW WITHIN THAT PLACE

A MERMAID WRAPPED IN SEAWEED

WITH MAB'S IMMORTAL FACE.

YET GROWN NOW TO A WOMAN,

A WOMAN TO THE KNEE.

SHE CRIED, SHE CLASPED ME FONDLY,

WE SOON WERE IN THE SEA.

AH, SHE WAS WISE AND SUBTF.I .

AND GAY AND STRONG AND SLKKK.

WE CHAINED THE WICKED SWORD-FISH,

WE PLAYED AT HIDE AND SEEK.

WE FLOATED ON THE WATER,

WE HEARD THE DAWN-WIND SING.

I MADE FROM OCEAN-WONDERS

HER BRIDAL WREATH AND RING.

ALL MORTAL GIRLS WERE SHADOWS,

ALL EARTH-LIFE BUT A MIST,

WHEN DEEP BENEATH THE MAELSTROM,

THE MERMAID'S HEART i KISSED.

I WOKE BESIDE THE CHURCH-DOOR

OF OUR SMALL INLAND TOWN,

BOWING TO A MAIDEN

IN A PANSY-VELVET GOWN,

WHO HAD NOT HEARD OF FAIRIES,

YET SEEMED OF LOVE TO DREAM.

WE PLANNED AN EARTHLY COTTAGE

BESIDE AN EARTHLY STREAM.

OUR WEDDING LONG IS OVER,

WITH TOIL THE YEARS FILL UP,

YET IN THE EVENING SILENCE,

WE DRINK A DEEP-SEA CUP.

NOTHING THE FAY REMEMBERS,

YET WHEN SHE TURNS TO ME,

WE MEET BENEATH THE WHIRLPOOL,

WE SWIM THE GOLDEN SEA.

THE MASTER OF THE DANCE.
A MASTER DEEP-EYED
ERE HIS MANHOOD WAS RIPE,
HE SANG LIKE A THRUSH,
HE COULD PLAY ANY PIPE.
SO DULL IN THE SCHOOL
THAT HE SCARCELY COULD SPELL,
HE READ BUT A BIT,
AND HE FIGURED NOT WELL.
A BARE-FOOTED FOOL,
SHOD ONLY WITH GRACEJ
LONG HAIR STREAMING DOWN
ROUND A WIND-HARDENED FACE;
HE SMILED LIKE A GIRL,
OR LIKE CLEAR WINTER SKIES,
A VIRGINAL LIGHT
MAKING STARS OF HIS EYES.
IN SWIFTNESS AND POISE,
A PROUD CHILD OF THE DEER,
A WHITE FAWN HE WAS.
YET A FAWN WITHOUT FEAR.
NO YOUTH THOUGHT HIM VAIN,
OR MADE MOCK OF HIS HAIR,
OR LAUGHED WHEN HIS WAYS

WERE MOST CURIOUSLY FAIR.

A MASTIFF AT FIGHT

HE COULD STRIKE TO THE EARTH

THE ENVIOUS ONE

WHO WOULD CHALLENGE HIS WORTH.

HOWEVER WE BOWED

TO THE SCHOOLMASTER MILD,

OUR SPIRITS WENT OUT

TO THE FAWN-FOOTED CHILD.

HIS BECKONING LED

OUR TROOP INTO THE BRUSH.

WE FOUND NOTHING THERE

BUT A WIND AND A HUSH.

HE SAT BY A STONE

AND HE LOOKED ON THE GROUND,

AS JF IN THE WEEDS

THERE WAS SOMETHING PROFOUND.

HIS PIPE SEEMED TO NEIGH,

THEN TO BLEAT LIKE A SHEEP,

THEN SOUND LIKE A STREAM

OR A WATERFALL DEEP.

IT WHISPERED STRANGE TALES,

HUMAN WORDS IT SPOKE NOT.

TOLD FAIR THINGS TO COME,

AND OUR MARVELOUS LOT

IF NOW WITH. FAWN-STEPS

UNSHOD WE ADVANCED

TO THE MIDST OF THE GROVE

AND IN REVERENCE DANCED.

WE OBEYED AS HE PIPED

SOFT GRASS TO YOUNG FEET,

WAS A MEDICINE MIGHTY,

A REMEDY MEET.

OUR THIN BLOOD AWOKE,

IT GREW DIZZY AND WILD,

THOUGH SCARCELY A WORD

MOVED THE LIPS OF A CHILD.

OUB DANCE GAVE ALLEGIANCE,

IT SET US APART,

WE TRIPPED A STRANGE MEASURE,

UPLIFTED OF HEART.

II

WE THOUGHT TO BE PROUD

OF OUR FAWN EVERYWHERE.

WE COULD HARDLY SEE HOW

SIMPLE BOOKS WERE A CARE.

NO RULE OF THE SCHOOL

THIS STRANGE STUDENT COULD TAME.

HE WAS BANISHED ONE DAY,

WHILE WE QUIVERED WITH SHAME.

HE PIPED BACK OUR LOVE

ON A MOON-SILVERED NIGHT,

ENTICED US ONCE MORE

TO THE PLACE OF DELIGHT.

A GREETING H6 SANG

AND IT MADE OUR BLOOD BEAT,

IT TRAMPED UPON CUSTOM

AND MOCKED AT DEFEAT.

HE BUILDED A FIRE

AND 'WE TRIPPED IN A KING,

THE EMBERS OUR BOOKS

AND THE FAWN OUR GOOD KING.

AND NOW WE APPROACHED

ALL THE MYSTERIES RARE

THAT SHADOWED HIS EYELIDS

AND BLEW THROUGH HIS HAIR.

THAT SPELL NOW WAS PEACE

THE DEEP STRENGTH OF THE TREES,

THE CHILDREN OF NATURE

WK CLAMBERED HER KNEES,

OUR BREATH AND OUR MOODS

WERE IN TUNE WITH HER OWN,

TREMENDOUS HER PRESENCE

ETERNAL HER THRONE.

THE OSTRACISED CHILD

OUR WHITE FOREHEADS KISSED,

OUR BODIES AND SOULS

BECAME LIGHTER THAN MIST.

SWEET DRESSES LIKE SNOW

OUR SMALL LADY-LOVES WORE,

LIKE MOONLIGHT THE THOUGHTS

THAT OUR BOSOMS UPBORE,

LIKE A LILY THE TOUCH

OF EACH COLD LITTLE HAND,

THE LOVES OF THE STARS

WE COULD NOW UNDERSTAND.

O QUIVERING AIR!

O THE CRYSTALLINE NIGHT!

O PAUSES OF AWE

AND THE FACES SWAN-WHITE!
O FERNS IN THE DUSK!
0 FOREST-SHRINED HOUR!

O EARTH THAT SENT UP

THE VAST THRILL AND THE POWEH.

TO LIFT US LIKE LEAVES

A DELIRIOUS WHIRL

THE MASTERFUL BOY

AND THE DELICATE GIRL!

WHAT CHILD THAT STRANGE NIGHT-TIME

CAN EVER FORGET?

HIS FEALTY DUE

AND HIS -INFINITE DEBT

TO THE FOLLY DIVINE,'

TO THE EXQUISITE RULE

OF THE PERILOUS MASTER

THE FAWN-FOOTED FOOL?
Ill

NOW SOLDIERS WE SEEM,

AND NIGHT BRINGS A NEW THING

A TERRIBLE IRE

AS OF THUNDER AWING.

A WARRIOR POWER,

THAT OLD CHIVALRY STIRRED,

WHEN KNIGHTS TOOK UP ARMS.

AS THE MAIDENS GAVE WORD.

THE END OF OUR WAR,

WILL BE WHITE-BANNERED DAYS,

WHEN THE TOWN LIKE A GREAT

BUDDING ROSE SHALL UPRAISE!

NEAR, NEARER, THAT AVAR,

AND THAT ECSTACY COMES,

WE HEAR THE TREES BEATING

INVISIBLE DRUMS.

THE FIELDS OF THE NIGHT

ARE STARLIGHTED ABOVE,

OUR GIRLS ARE WHITE TORCHES

OF CONQUEST AND LOVE.

NO NERVE WITHOUT WILL,

AND NO BREAST WITHOUT BREATH,

WE WHIRL WITH THE PLANETS

THAT NEVER KNOW DEATH!

THE DANDELION.

0 DANDELION, RICH AND HAUGHTY,
KING OF VILLAGE FLOWERS !
EACH DAY IS CORONATION TIME,
YOU HAVE NO HUMBLE HOURS.

1 LIKE TO SEE YOU BRING A TROOP
TO BEAT THE BLUE-GRASS SPEARS,

TO SCORN THE LAWN-MOWER THAT
WOULD BE

LIKE FATE'S TRIUMPHANT SHEARS.
YOUR YELLOW HEADS ARE CUT AWAY,
IT SEEMS YOUR REIGN IS O'ER.
BY NOON YOU RAISE A SEA OF STARS
MORE GOLDEN THAN BEFORE.

THE LAMP IN THE WINDOW.
I LIGHT MY HOMELY LAMP AGAIN TO
NIGHT,
AND SAY"— PERHAPS A WANDERING ONE

GOES BY,
HURRIED PAST DOOR-WAYS WHERE THE

WATCH-DOGS GROWL —
THE HEARTHS THE STRANGER DARES NOT

COME ANIGH.

WE SIT IN STOLID CIRCLE AT THE BOARD,
AND NEVER A SON OR DAUGHTER TELLS A

TALE.
THE FAITHFUL MOTHER FINDS NO CHEER

IN TOIL,

OUR ROSY INFANT'S CROW CAN NAUGHT

AVAIL.
THE COUNTRYSIDE GROWS DULL WITH

HOMES UNSTIRRED,
THE PREACHER PRATES IN LONG-FAMILIAR

WORDS.
THE NEIGHBORS COME, WITH WOODEN

EYES, TO TALK
OF WEEDS AND FEXCES, BARNS AND

FLOCKS AND HERDS.
PERHAPS TONIGHT WITHIN THE SOAKING

RAIN
SOME STORM-BLOWN BOY MOVES ON THAT

WE SHOULD KEEP,

TO BRING US LAUGHTER ROUND OUR ROAR
ING STOVE,
TO SHOW US WHY WE SOW AND WHY WE

REAP.
TONIGHT, PERCHANCE, A CONQUERING ONE

RETURNS,
MASTER OF WEARINESS AND FATE AND

PAIN
WITHIN HIS POCKET NOTE-BOOKS OF HIS

LORE,
WITHIN HIS SOUL GREAT PASSIONS HELD

IN REIN.
PERHAPS, TONIGHT SOME WILD MAN

PASSES BY,

BEARING WISE PARCHMENTS FROM OLD

CITIES GRIM,
OR, IT MAY BE, A BETTER LAMP THAN

MINE

MORE LIKE ALADDIN'S, NOT, LIKE THIS

ONE, DIM.
ALL IT WILL NEED, THE OIL AND WICK

AND FLAME,
AND SHELTERED ROOM TO KEEP THE WIND

AWAY
I (AN PROVIDE. AH, IF A LAMP HE

BRINGS,
IT SHALL BE TRIMMED AND BURNISHED

EVERY DAY!

THE HEARTH ETERNAL.

THERE DWELT A WIDOW LEANED AND DE
VOUT,

BEHIND OUR HAMLET ON THE EASTERN
HILL.

THREE SONS SHE HAD, WHO WENT TO
FIND THE WORLD,

THEY PROMISED TO RETURN, BUT WAND
ERED STILL.

THE CITIES USED THEM WELL, THEY WON
THEIR WAY,

RICH GIFTS THEY SENT, TO STILL THEIR

MOTHER'S SIGHS,
WORN OUT WITH HONORS, AND APART

FROM HER,

T1IKY DIED AS MANY A SELF-MADE EXILE
DIES.

THE MOTHER HAD A HEARTH THAT WOULD
NOT QUENCH,

THE DEATHLESS EMBERS FOUGHT THE
CREEPING GLOOM,

SHE SAID TO US WHO CAM£ WITH
WONDERING EYES

"THIS IS A MAGIC FIRE, A MAGIC ROOM."

THE PINE BURNED OUT, BUT STILL THE
COALS GLOWED ON,

HER GRAVE GREW OLD BENEATH THE PEAR-
TREE SHADE,

AND YET HER CRUMBLING HOME EN
SHRINED THE LIGHT,

THE NEIGHBORS PEERING IN WERE HALF-
AFRAID.

THEN STURDY BEGGARS, NEEDING FAGOTS
CAME,

ONE AT A TIME, AND STOLE THE WALLS,
AND FLOOR.

THEY LEFT A NAKED STONE, BUT HOW IT
BLAZED !

AND IN THE THUNDERSTORM IT FLARED
THE MORE.

AND NOW IT WAS THAT MEN WERE HEARD
TO SAY,

"THIS LIGHT SHOULD BE BELOVED BY ALL
THE TOWN."

AT LAST THEY MADE THE SLOPE A PLACE
OF PRAYER,

WHERE MARVELOUS THOUGHTS FROM GOD
CAME SWEEPING DOWN.

THEY LEFT THEIR CHURCHES CRUMBLING
IN THE SUN,

THEY MET ON THAT SOFT HILL. ONE
BROTHERHOOD;

ONE STRENGTH AXD VALOR ONLY, ONE DE
LIGHT,

ONE LAUGHING, BROODING GENIUS, GREAT
AND GOOD.

NOW MANY GKEY-HAIRE1) PRODIGALS
COME HOME,

THE PLACE OUT-FLAMES THE CITIES OF
THE LAND,

AND TWICE-BORN BRAHMANS REACH US
FROM ATAR,

WITH SUBTLE EYES PREPARED TO UNDER
STAND.

HIGHER AND HIGHER BURNS THE EASTERN

SHOWING THE ROADS THAT MARCH FROM

EVERYPLACE,
A STEADY BEACON O'ER THE WEARY

LEAGUES,

AT DEAD OF NIGHT IT LIGHTS THE TRAV
ELLER'S FACE!
THUS HAS THE WIDOW CONQUERED HALF

THE EARTH,
SHE WHO INCREASED IN FAITH, THOUGH

ALL ALONE,
WHE KEPT HER EMPTY HOUSE A MAGIC

PLACE,
HAS MADE THE TOWN A HOLY ANGEL'S

THRONE.

THE BUSH OF BURNING SPICE.

FROM DUST CELESTIAL THAT A CLOUD LET
FALL,

A BUSH CAME UP, FULL FORTY YEARS UN
SEEN,

THAT SCATTERED SMOKE AND EVER-BURN
ING SPICE

ACROSS A FIELD OF THORNS AND BURDOCKS
MEAN.

AND THEN A CRIPPLED CHILD ON A SWEET
TIME,

OF HOLIDAY BEHELD IT DECK THE MORN.

HIS FRIEND, THE PASTOR, SAW ONE
BRANCH, AND SANG.

THE VILLAGE LAUGHED THE FLIGHTY PAIR
TO SCORN.

LATER THE TWO GROWN OLD AND STAID
DENIED,

THE SOLITARY INSIGHT OF THEIR YOUTH,

AND MOCKED THEIR CHILDREN, WHO WITH
LAUGHTER SANG,

"OUR EYES BEHOLD THE DEATHLESS BUSH
OF TRUTH."

"WHY DANCE, PRAY TELL," THE CRIPPLE

ASKED. "AND CHANT
ABOUND A CINDER IN AN EMPTY LOT?"
"NO I:URXIXG HUSH," THE PASTOR SAID,

"HAS BLOOMED
SINCE MOSES' DAY. NEW MIRACLES

COME NOT."

AND YET THOSE KK.\GII.E ( HII.DUE.V GREW
IN STRENGTH,

RADIANT AND KOYAL AS THE YEARS IN
CREASED.

AT LAST THEY BROUGHT THEIR REVERENT
LOVERS THERE

TO BREATHE THE SMOKE AS THOUGH IT
WERE A FEAST.

FROM EVERY BRANCH FLEW OUT A BAIN-
BOW BIRD,

A DARLING SONGSTER WITH HIS PLUMES
AFLAME,

AND EVERY BIRD FLEW ROUND AND KOI M>
A CHILD,

AND SANG OF GOD, AND CALLED THE CHILD
BY NAME.

THESE SWEETHEART'S NE'ER WERE FALSE.

EACH WOMAN WORE
WITHIN HER !.()( KET SAKE, A FEATHER

BLUE,
THAT DROPPED TO HER FROM OUT THOSE

WHIRRING PLUMES.

A TALISMAN THAT KEPT HER LOVER TRUE.
AND YET IN AFTER TIME THOSE DAYS

GREW DIM,

AND LEST THEY BE FOREVER LEFT BEHIND
THEY WROTE THEM IN A BOOK IN NOBLE

WORDS,
SWEET HYMNS ABOUT A BUSH THEY

COULD NOT FIND!

THE WOMAN CALLED "BEAUTY" AND
HER SEVEN DRAGONS.

A POEM FOR THOSE WHO DESIRE AN
ESTHETIC UTOPIA.

SHE BUILT TO THE HEIGHT OF HE«

BREAST,

AN EARTH-WORK OF THISTLES AND SOD.
SHE LAVED HER SOFT ARMS IN THE

SPRING,

SHE SCATTERED THE FIRE WITH A BOD.
THE ROSE-PETAL CHILD BY HER SIDE,
CRIED OUT WITH A COUNTENANCE WHITE,
THE MOUND THEY HAD BUILDED AWOKE,
WITH EYES THAT WERE BLINKING AND

BRIGHT.

THE SEVEN STRANGE DRAGONS OF ART,
CAME FORTH LIKE GOLD PARCHMENTS UN
ROLLED,

AND FAWNED ON THE SIBYL'S DOVE-HAND,
SUBMISSIVE AS SHEEP FROM THE FOL1>.
YET SHIMMERING OPALS OF FIRE,

YET TITAN CHAMELEON KINGS,

ALL HISSING IMPATIENTLY THERE,
UNSHEATHING THEIR TUSKS AND THEIR

STINGS.
SHE LAUGHED WHILE THEY FOAMED O'El

THE FIELD,

AND BLASTED THE HEDGES WITH HEAT,
AND POUNDED THE BOULDERS TO DUST,
AND ATE THE RED FAGOTS LIKE MEAT.

II

GO FORTH. TEAR THIS IRON AGE DOWN,
"MY SONS," THUS THE WISE WOMAN

SPOK I .

"AND SET EVERY FANTASY FREE,
AND EVERY CRUSHED WORKER UNYOKE.

ESTABLISH THE SAN DAL WOOD AGE,
ESTABLISH THE WHITE AGE OF ART,
WHEN EARTH WILL STILL SIN AS OF OLD,
BUT SIN WITH A LOFTIER HKAUT.
\\Hi:\ (ATIIIS AM) BRAGGARTS WILL

SLAY,
BUT SLAY WITH A LOFTIER LUST,

WHEN LAUGHTER'S BRIGHT ROAD WILL BE

CLEAN,

AND TRAGEDY'S PATH MORE AUGUST.
WHEN YOUTH WILL CLIMB RECKLESSLY

STILL,

BUT CLIMB DRAGON-GREAT IN ITS PRIDE,
AND FULL-BLOODED, FURIOUS HOSTS,
WILL FLAUNT MY WHITE BANNER AND

RIDi

TO FIGHT AGAINST BALLOTS WITH TRUTH,
AGAINST MOBS, WITH THE CHISEL AND

PEN;

THE PRIZE OF MY SOLDIERS TO BE
FAIE CONTINENTS FITTED FOR MEN."

Ill

THE DRAGONS GAVE HEED TO THAT WORD,
LIKE FIELD-FLOWERS THEY BOWED TO HER

BREATH,
WHO 3IADE THEM AND ORDERED THEM

FORTH,

WITH POWERS OF CREATION AND DEATH.
THE CHILD SMOOTHED THEIR LEONINE

MANES.

FROM WIZARDRY HID IN THAT HAND,
THEY GREW AS THE THUNDER-CLOUDS

GROW,

ENCOMPASSING WATER AND LAND.
AND OH, HOW THEIR SERPENTINE SCALES
FLASHED, RATTLED AND CRASHED IN THE

AIR!
THEY CLIMBED WITH ALL-CONQUERING

COILS,

GOD'S CRYSTAL, IMPERIAL STAIR.
THEY ROARED THROUGH THE PATHWAYS

OF DAY,
SKY SWEEPING THEIR FOAM-FURROWS

FLEW,

THE SUN WAS AN ISLAND BESIEGED,
THEIR PENNONS TALL WAVES OF THE

BLUE.

BEHEMOTHS THEY WERE OF THAT TIDE,
OVERHEAD THAT MEN CALL THE HIGH

NOON,

THEIR CRIES IN BLOOD-STIRRING ACCORD,
€IKE TRUMPETS OF DOOMSDAY IN TUNE!

AND NOW THEY WERE GONE LIKE THE

WIND,

AND CLOUDLESS AND SILENT, THE HOUR,
THE SIBYL WENT BACK TO THE TOWN,
AND HER SONS HURRIED FORTH IN HEB

POWER.

THE SOUL OF A BUTTERFLY.
I STOOD ON THE WALL WITHOUT A DOOR,
WHERE THE HEAVEX OF HEAVENS BEGAN,
ON THE SHOHE OF THE DRIED-UP DEEP OF

TIME,

AND DEATH AND HELL AND MAN.
BEHIND ME ROSE JERUSALEM,
WITH A HUNDRED WALLS ON HIGH,
TO THE ZENITH AND THE UPPER SOUTH,
TO THE HILLS ABOVE THE SKY.
I COULD NOT FACE THAT ROYAL TOWN,
WITH ITS SIDES OF SOARING LIGHT J
I STOOD ON THE LOWEST OUTER WALL
AND LOOKED TO THE NORTHERN NIGHT.
I CREPT TO THE EDGE OF THE ADAMANT,

AND PEERED DOWN THE AWFUL STEEP,
AND THE ANCIENT EARTH WAS A WILTING

FLOWER,

ON THE HEAVEN-LIT FIELDS OF THE DEEP.
[ KNEW OLD WORMS CONSUMED HEB FACE,
I KNEW ALL ELSE WAS FAIR,
I KNEW SHE WAS THE BLACKEST PLACE
WITHIN THE DEEPER AIR.

AT LAST A CLOUD FROM THE RIVER DEATH,
ROSE ROUND THAT TOMB OF MEN,
BUT A VOICE WITHIN ME CRIED TO ME,
''THE EARTH WILL LIVE AGAIN."

AND THE CLOUD OUTSPREAD AND HID

THE VOID,

AND FOUND NOT ANY REST,
TILL THE BOWL OF FATE WAS UI.I.KI'

WITH MIST,

TO THE LEVEL OF MY BREAST.
AND NOW ON THE NORTH HORIZON'S RIM
THE DEAD EARTH FLOATED, GRAY AND DIM.
IT SEEMED TO ALWAYS FLOAT TO ME,
AND THERE I WATCHED IT ENDLESSLY.
I SAW THAT DEAD EARTH BUD AND BLOOM,
AND FLASH WITH GOLD AND RED!
AND NOW IT LOOKED ME IN THE FACE,
A BUTTERFLY OF WONDROUS GRACE,
THE SOUL OF A GIANT BUTTERFLY
ARISEN FROM THE DEAD!

RELIGIOUS VERSES

HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE.

HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE, WHEREVER

THE FLAME IS UNFURLED,
IN THE SUN, IT MAY BE, AS A TORCH, TO

LEAD ON AND ENLIGHTEN THE WORLD",
THAT MELTED THE GLACIAL STREAMS, IX

THE DAY THAT NO MEMORIES REACH,
THAT SHIMMERED IN AMBER AND SHELL

AND WEED ON THE EARLIEST BEACH;
THE GENIUS OF LOVE AND OF LIFE, THE

POWER THAT WILL EVER ABOUND,
THAT WAITS IN THE BONES OF THE DEAD,

WHO SLEEP TILL THE JUDGMENT

SHALL SOUND.
HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE, WHEN

CLOTHED IN SWIFT MUSIC IT COMES,
THE GLOW OF THE HARVESTING SONGS, THE

VOICE OF THE NATIONAL DRUMS;
THE WHIMSICAL, VARIOUS FIRE, IX THE

RHYMES AND IDEAS OF MEN,
BURIED IN BOOKS FOR AN AGE, EXPLODING

AND WRITHING AGAIN,
AND BLOWN A RED WIND ROUND THE

WORLD, CONSUMING THE LIES IN ITS
MIRTH,

THEN LOCKED IN DARK VOLUMES FOR
LONG, AND BURIED LIKE COAL IN THE
EARTH.

HERE'S TO THE COMFORTING FIRE IN THE

JOYS OF THE BLIND AND THE MEEK,
IN THE CUSTOMS OF LETTERLESS LANDS,

IN THE THOUGHTS OF THE STUPID"

AND WEAK.
IN THE WEARIEST LEGENDS THEY TELL, IN

THEIR CRUELEST COLDEST BELIEF,

IN THE PROVERBS OF COUNTER OR TILL, IN
THE ARTS OF THK PRIEST OR THE
THIEF.

HERE'S TO THE SPIRIT OF FIRE, THAT
NEVER THE OCEAN CAN DROWN,

THAT GLOWS IN THE PHOSPHORENT WAVE,
AND GLEAMS IN THE SEA-ROSES

CROWN ;

THAT SLEEPS IN THE SUNBEAM AND MIST,
THAT CREEPS AS THE WISE CAN BUT
KNOW,

A WONDER, AX INCENSE, A WHIM, A PER
FUME, A FEAR AND A GLOW,

ENSNARING THE STARS WITH A SPELL,
AND HOLDING THE EARTH IN A XET,

YEA, FILLING THE NATIONS WITH PRAYER,
WHEREVER MAN'S PATHWAY IS SET.

LOOK YOU, I'LL GO PRAY.

LOOK YOU, I'LL GO PRAY,
MY SHAME IS CRYING,
MY SOUL IS GREY AXD FAINT,
MY FAITH IS DYING.

LOOK YOU, I'LL GO PRAY

"SWEET MARY, MAKE ME CLEAN,
THOU RAINSTORM OF THE SOUL,
THOU WINE FROM WORLD'S UNSEEN."

THE MISSIONARY MISGIVING.
(WILL THE WORLD BE BUT NOMINALLY

-.; £ <i -.-CHRISTIAN ? )
I SEE ANOTHER LUTHER
BRING WRATH TO INDIA'S EYES.
I SEE AX INQUISITION
BY CHINA'S CHURCHES RISE.
I SEE ANOTHER CROMWELL
SET FIRE TO GRIM JAPAN,
LONG IS THE ROAD AXD DREADFUL,
WHEREBY CHRIST CONQUERS' .MAX.
OR, IF OUR CREEDS SHALL CRUMBLE?
WHAT IF THE AGES SEE,
A JESUS LIKE TO BUDMHA,
UNDER THE BOHDl TREE?
A CHRIST TOO LIKE CONFUCIUS,
WITH SILKEN ROBE AXD FAX?
YET ARE THE YEARS TRIUMPHANT
IF. CHRIST SHALL CONQUER MAN.
FOR CHRIST HAS COME IX GLORY,
WHEX MEX ARE BROTHERS HERE,
WHEN SWORDS ARE TURNED TO PLOUGH
SHARES,

AND PEACE HAS VANQUISHED FEAR.
WHATEVER TOMB ENFOLDS HIM,
HOWEVER STRANGE HIS PLAN,
THE EARTH SHALL BE HIS THRONE-ROOM,
OUR CHRIST SHALL CONQUER MAN!

FOREIGN MISSIONS IN BATTLE

ARRAY.

AN ENDLESS LINE OF SPLENDOR,
THESE TROOPS WITH HEAVEN FOR HOME,
WITH CREEDS THEY CO FROM SCOTLAND,
WITH INCENSE GO FROM ROME.
THESE, IN THE NAME OF JESUS,
AGAINST THE DARK f;ODS STAND,
THEY GIRD THE EARTH WITH VALOR,
THEY HEED THEIR KING'S COMMAND.

ONWARD THE LINE ADVANrFS,

SHAKING THE HILLS WITH POWKR.

SLAYING THE HIDDEN DEMONS,

THE LIONS THAT DEVOUR.

NO BLOODSHED IN THE WRESTLING. —

BUT SOULS NEW-BORN ARISE —

THE NATIONS GROWING KINDER,

THE CHILD-HEARTS GROWING WISE.

WHAT IS THE FINAL ENDING?

THE ISSUE, CAN WE KNOW?

WILL CHRIST OUTLIVE MOHAMMED?

WILL KALI'S ALTAR GO?

THIS IS OUR FAITH TREMENDOUS. —

OUR WILD HOPE, WHO SHALL SCORN. —

THAT IN THE NAME OF JESUS

THE WORLD SHALL BE REBORN!

GALAHAD, KNIGHT WHO PERISHED.
A POEM DEDICATED TO ALL CRUSADERS
AGAINST THE INTERNATIONAL AND
INTERSTATE TRAFFIC IN-
YOUNG GIRLS.
GALAHAD * * * SOLDIER THAT PER

ISHED

* * *

ACES AGO,

OUR HEARTS ARE BREAKING WITH SHAME,

OUR TEARS OVERFLOW.
GALAHAD * * * 'KNIGHT WHO PER
IS 11 1 I) * * * AWAKEN AGAIN,
TEACH US' TO FIGHT FOR IMMACULATE

WAYS AMONG MEX.
SOLDIERS FANTASTIC, WE PRAY TO THE

STAR OF THE SEA,
WE PRAY TO THE MOTHER OF GOO THAT

WHITE SLAVES MAY BE FREE.
ROSE-CROWNED LADY FROM HEAVEN. GIVE

US THY GRACE,

HELP US THE DESPERATE, DESPERATE BAT
TLE TO FACE
TILL THE LEER OF THE TRADER IS SEEN

XEVERMORE IN THE LAND,
TILL WE 'BRING EVERY MAID OF THE AGE

TO ONE SHELTERING HAND.
AH, THEY ARE PRICELESS, THE PALE AXD

THE IVORY AND RED!
BREATHLESS WE GAZE ON THE CURLS OF

EACH GLORIOUS HEAD!
ARM THEM WITH STRENGTH MEDIEVAL,

THY MARVELOUS DOWER,
BLAST XOW THEIR TEMPTERS. SHELTER

THEIR STEPS WITH THY POWER.

LEAVE NOT LIFE'S FAIREST TO PERISH

STRANGERS TO THEE,
LET XOT THE WEAKEST BE SHIPWRECKED,

Oil, STAR OF THE SEA!

THE PERILOUS ROAD.

A POEM FOR SPIRITUALISTS.

"HERMIT," THE YOUTH SAID, "TEACH MY
HEART THE WAYS

OF HEAVEN'S FREE DAYS.

AND ARE THEIR PLEASURES VARIOUS,
FRAGILE, FLEET

WHERE BRIGHT SOULS MEET?

FATHER IN GOD, FOR I HAVE FASTED LONG,

TEACH A WILD SONG.

TEACH ME, THE WHILE I KNEEL, A CURI
OUS PRAYER

TO RULE THE AIR.

SHOW ME THE SECRET DOOR THAT OPENS

WIDE

WHERE CHARIOTS RIDE.
CHARIOTS THAT COME TO WHIRL YOU TO

THE SKY,
WHEN EVE IS NIGH,
CHARIOTS THAT BEAR YOU BACK TO TIME

AND SPACE,
AND THIS GRIM PLACE."

"NAY," SAID THE PALSIED MAN, "i KEEP

THE SPELL

OF HEAVEN, OF HELL.
NAY, THOUGH YOU KNEEL, GOOD YOUTH,

I WILL NOT SHOW
WHAT HERMITS KNOW.

SELDOM I DARE TO OPEN WIDE MINE EYES,
BY THAT PATH LIES

TERROR, AND ROSE-BRIARS FIERCE WILL

PIERCE AND SEAR,
THIS OLD FRAME HERE.
HE WHO WOULD SPEAK TO STRANGERS IN

THE NIGHT
GOING BY, IN WHITE:
HE WHO WOULD SPEAK TO CHRIST IN

FUNERAL ROOMS
AND BY NEW TOMBS I

WHO WOULD TOUCH THE HOT-WINGED,
TALL IMMORTAL MEN,

AND RETURN AGAIN!

MUST SCORN HIS DAILY LIFE AND NATURAL
FRIENDS,

SUCH FRIENDSHIP ENDS.

HE MUST LEAVE HIS SWEETHEART WEEP
ING IN THE LANE,

TO FORESTALL HER PAIN

WHEN HE WAKES ONCE MORE, HER FIND
ING HIM SO COLD

TO THEIR LOVE OF OLD.

A HEAVEN OF HEAVENS IS NOT ALWAYS
WORTH

A SURRENDERED EARTH.

ONE BLAST OF THAT PERILOUS AIR DRIES
UP THE HEART,

YEA. IT SETS APART

FROM ALL THINGS HERE THE SEER, HALF
MAD, ALONE,

LIKE A LEAF, A STONE."

HEART OF GOD.
A PRAYER IX THE JUNGLES OF HEAVEN.

O GREAT HEART OF GOD,

ONCE VAGUE AND LOST TO ME,

WHY DO I THROB WITH YOUR THROB TO
NIGHT,

IN THIS LAND, ETERNITY?

O LITTLE HEART OF GOD,

SWEET INTRUDING STRANGER,

YOU ARE LAUGHING IN MY HUMAN
BREAST,

A CHRIST-CHILD IN A MANGER.

HEART, DEAR HEART OF GOD,

BESIDE YOU NOW I KNEEL,

STRONG HEART OF FAITH. O HEART NOT
MINE,

WHERE GOD HAS SET HIS SEAL.

WILD THUNDERING HEART OF GOD

OUT OF MY DOUBT I COME,

AND MY FOOLISH FEET WITH PROPHETS'

FEET,
MARCH WITH THE PROPHETS' DRUM.

IN MEMORY OF A CHILD.

I

THE ANGELS GUIDE HIM XOW,
AND WATCH HIS CURLY HEAD.
AND LEAD HIM IN THEIR GAMES,
THE LITTLE BOY WE LED.

II

HE CANNOT COME TO HARM,
HE KNOWS MORE THAN WE KNOW.
HIS LIGHT IS BRIGHTER FAR
THAN DAYTIME HERE BELOW.

Ill

HIS PATH LEADS OX AND ON,
THROUGH PLEASAXT LAWNS AXD FLOWERS,
HIS BROWN EYES OPEN WIDE
AT GRASS MORE GREEN THAX O.URS.

IV

WITH PLAYMATES LIKE HIMSELF,
THE SHINING BOY WILL SIX(;.
EXPLORING WOXDROUS WOODS,
SWEET WITH ETERNAL SPRING.

V

YET, HE IS LOST TO US,
FAR IS HIS PATH OF GOLD,
FAR DOES THE CITY SEEM,
LONELY OUR HEARTS AND OLD.

RHYMES OF THE DAY
AND HOUR

IN PRAISE OF SONGS THAT DIE.
AFTER HAVING READ A GREAT DEAL OF
GOOD CURRENT POETRY IX THE MAGAZINES
AND NEWSPAPERS.

AH, THEY ARE PASSING, PASSING BY,

WONDERFUL SONGS, BUT BORX TO DIE!

CRIES FROM THE INFINITE IUMAX SEAS,

WAVES THRICE-WINGED WITH HARMONIES.

HERE I STAXD ON A PIER IN THE FOAM

SEEING THE SONGS TO THE BEACH (iO
HOME

DYING IN SAND WHILE THE TIDE FLOWS
BACK,

AS IT FLOWED OF OLD IN ITS FATED TRACK.

OH HURRYING TIDE THAT WILL XOT HEAR

YOUR OWN FOAM-CHILDREN DYING NEAR!

IS THERE NO REFUGE-HOUSE OF SON<;.

XO HOME, NO HAVEX WHERE SONGS BE
LONG ?

OH PRECIOUS HYMXS THAT COME AXD <;f>!

YOU PERISH, AND I LOVE YOU SO!

FORMULA FOR A UTOPIA.
LET EVERY CHILD BE BORN OF PASSIONATE

LOVE,

CRADLED IX TENDERNESS AND SACRED JOY!
GAY LITTLE MAIDENS WITH THE HEARTS

OF NUNS

LET GALAHAD BE BORN IX EVERY BOY.

THE PERFECT MARRIAGE.
I.

I HATE THIS YOKE; FOB THE WORLD'S

SAKE HERE PIT IT ONI

KNOWING 'TWILL WEIGH AS MUCH ox

YOU TILL LIFE IS GONE.
KNOWING YOU LOVE YOUR FREEDOM DEAR,

AS I LOVE MINK —
K\.>\\IXG THAT LOVE UNCHAINED HAS

BEEN OUR LIFE'S GREAT WINE:

OUR ONE GREAT WINE, (YKT SPENT TOO

SOON, AND SERVING NONE;
OF THE TWO CUPS FREE LOVE AT LAST THE

DEADLY ONE.)

II.

WE GRANT OUR MEETINGS WILL BE TAME.

NOT HONEY-SWEET,
NO LONGER TURNING TO THE TRYST WITH

FLYING FEET.
WE KNOW THE TOIL THAT NOW MUST

COME WILL SPOIL THE BLOOM
AND TENDERNESS OF PASSION'S TOUCH.

AND IN IT'S ROOM
WILL COME TAME HABIT, DEADLY CALM,

SORROW AND GLOOM.
OH HOW THE BATTLE SCARS THE BEST WHO

ENTER LIFE!
EACH SOLDIER COMES OUT BLIND OR LAME

FROM THE BLACK STRIFE.
MAD OR DISEASED OR DAMNED OF SOUL

THE BEST MAY COME

IT MATTERS NOT HOW MERRILY NOW

ROLLS THE DRUM,
THE FIFE SHRILLS HIGH, THE HORN

SINGS LOUD. TILL NO STEPS LAG

AND ALL ADORE THAT SILKEN FLAME,

DESIRE'S GREAT FLAG.
in.

WE WILL BUILD STRONG OUK TINY FORT,

STRONG AS WE CAN-
HOLDING ONE INNER ROOM BEYOND THE

SWORD OF .MAN.
LOVE IS TOO WIDE, IT SEEMS TODAY. TO

HIDE IT THERE,
IT SKKMS TO FLOOD THE FIELDS OK CORN.

AND GILD THE AIR

IT SEEMS TO I5RLATHK FKO.M EVERY BROOK,

FROM FLOWERS TO SIGH —
IT SEEMS A CATARACT POUItKD DOWN

FROM THE GREAT SKY;
IT SEEMS A TENDERNESS SO VAST No I'.USH

BUT SHOWS

ITS HAUNTING AND TRANSFIGURING LlGIli

WHEKK WONDER GLOWS.
IT WRAPS US HS" A SII.KKN SNARE BY

SHADOWY STREAMS,
AND WII.DERIN<; SWKKT AND STUNG WITH

JOY YOUR WIHTK SOUL SKKMS
A FLA Ml--'. A FLAME, ro.MjUKRING DAY.

CONQUERING NIGHT.
BROUGHT FROM OUR GOD. A HOLY I HIM,.

A MAD DELIGHT.
BUT LOVE, WHEN ALL THINGS I'.KAT IT

DOWN, LEAVES THE WIDE A IK,
THE HEAVENS A UK GREY. AND MEN TURN

WOLVES, LEAN WITH DESPAIR.
AH, WHEN WE NEED LOVE MOST. AND

WEEP, WHEN ALL IS DARK,
LOVE IS A PINCH OF ASHES GREY, WITH

ONE LIVE SPARK —
YET ON THE HOPE TO KEEP ALIVE 1 HAT

TREASURE STRANGE
HANGS ALL EARTH'S STRUGGLE. STRIFE

AND SCORN. AND DESPERATE < HAN(,E.

LOVE? * * WE WILL SCARCELY LOVE

OUR BABES, FULL. MANY A TIME—
KNOWING THEIR SOULS AND OURS TOO

WELL. AND ALL OUR GRIME

AND THERE BESIDE OUR HOLY HEARTH

WE'LL HIDE OUR EYES —
LEST WE SHOULD FLASH WHAT SEE Ms

DISDAIN WITHOUT DISGUISE.
YET THERE SHALL HE NO WAVERING THERE

IX THAT DEEP TRIAL

AND NO FALSE FIRE OR STRANGER HAND OR

TRAITOR VILE —
WE'LL FIGHT THE GLOOM AND FIGHT THE

WORLD WITH STRONG SWORD-PLAY,
ENTRENCHED WITHIN OUR BLOCK-HOUSE

SMALL, EVER AT BAY

AS FELLOW-WARRIORS. UNDERPAID, WOUND
ED AND WILD,
TRUE TO THK1K MATTERED FLAG, THEIR

FAITH STILL UXDKFII.KD!

IV E WILL DO WELL. WE'LL SAVE THROUGH
LIFE LOVE'S SPARK. I.OVE's <;K.M.

WE'LL GUARD NO MAN-MADE HEAP <»•

COINS OB DIADEM

HUT CLASP WORN HANDS. AND \ OW GREAT

VOWS TO GOD A HOVE,
KEKPINi. I N</UE\< HKD THROUGH STORM

AND FEAR. ONE SPARK OF I.OVI '

THE LEADEN EYED.
LET NOT YOUNG SOULS BE SMOTHERED OUT

BEFOKE
THEY DO QUAINT DEEDS AND FULLY

FLAUNT THEIR PRIDE.

IT is THE WORLD'S ONE CRIME ITS BABES

GROW DULL,
ITS POOR ARE OX-LIKE, LIMP AND LEADEN

EYED.
NpT THAT THEY STARVE, BUT STARVE SO

DREAMLESSLY,
NOT THAT THEY SOW, BUT THAT THEY

SELDOM REAP,
NOT THAT THEY SERVE, BUT HAVE NO GODS

TO SERVE,
.NOT THAT THEY DIE, BUT THAT THEY DIE

LIKE SHEEP.

THE FOLLOWING VERSES WERE WRITTEN
ON THE EVENING OF MARCH THE FIRST,
NINETEEN HUNDRED AND ELEVEN, AND
PRINTED NEXT MORNING IN THE ILLINOIS
STATE REGISTER.

THEY CELEBRATE THE ARRIVAL OF THE
NEWS THAT THE UNITED STATE SENATE
HAD DECLARED THE ELECTION OF WILLIAM
LORIMER GOOD AND VALID, BY A VOTE OF
FORTY-SIX TO FORTY.

TO THE UNITED STATES SENATE.
REVELATION 16 1 VERSES 16 THROUGH 19.
AND MUST THE SENATOR FROM ILLINOIS
HE THIS SQUAT THING, WITH BLINKING,

HALF-CLOSED EYES?
THIS BRAZEN GUTTER IDOL, REARED TO

POWER

UPON A LEERING PYRAMID OF LIES?

AND MUST THE SENATOR FROM ILLINOIS

BE THE WORLD'S PROVERB OF SUCCESSFUL

SHAME,
DAZZLING ALL STATE HOUSE FLIES THAT

STEAL AND STEAL,
WHO, WHEN THE SAD STATE SPARES

THEM, COUNT IT FAME?
IF ONCE OR TWICE WITHIN HIS NEW WON

HALL
HIS VOTE HAD COUNTED FOR THE BROKEN

MEN;
IF IN HIS EARLY DAYS HE WROUGHT

SOME GOOD—
WE MIGHT A GREAT SOUL'S SINS FORGIVE

HIM THEN.

BUT MUST THE SENATOR FROM ILLINOIS
BE VINDICATED BY FAT KINGS OF GOLD?
AND MUST HE BE BELAUDED BY THE

SMIRCHED,
THE SLEEK, UNCANNY CHIEFS JN LIES

GROWN OLD?
BE WARNED, OH, WANTON ONES, WHO

SHIELDED HIM

BLACK WRATH AWAITS. YOU ALL SHALL

EAT THE DUST.

YOU DARE NOT SAY! "TOMORROW WILL

BRING PEACE;
LET US MAKE MERRY, AND GO FORTH IN

LUST."

WHAT WILL YOU TRADING FROGS DO ON A
DAY

WHEN ARMAGEDDON THUNDERS THROUGH

THE LAND;
WHEN EACH SAD PATRIOT RISES, MAD

WITH SHAME,

HIS BALLOT OR HIS MUSKET IN HIS HAND?
IN THE DISTRACTED STATES FROM WHICH

YOU CAME

THE DAY IS BIG WITH WAR HOPES FIERCE

AND STRANGE;
OUB IRON CHICAGOS AND OUR GROIY

MINES

RUMBLE WITH HATE AND LOVE AND SOL
EMN CHANGE.
TOO MANY WEARY MEN SHED HONEST

TEARS,
GROUND BY MACHINES THAT GIVE THE

SENATE EASE.
TOO MANY LITTLE BABES WITH BLEEDING

HANDS
HAVE HEAPED THE FRUITS OK EMPIRE ON

YOUR KNEES.
AND SWINE WITHIN THE SENATE IN THIS

DAY,

WHEN ALL THE SMOTHERING BY-STREETS

WEEP AND WAIL;
WHEN WISDOM BREAKS THE HEARTS OF

HER BEST SONS;
WHEN KINGLY MEN, VOTING FOB TRUTH,

MAY FAIL: —
THESE ARE A PORTENT AND A CALL TO

ARMS.

OUR PROTEST TURNS INTO A BATTLE CRY:
"OUR SHAME MUST END, OUB STATES BE

FREE AND CLEAN J
AND IN THIS WAR WE CHOOSE TO LIVE

AND DIE."

DREAMS IN THE SLUM.

SOME MEN, NOT BLIND, STILL THINK AMID

THE FILTH.
SOME SCHOLARS SEE VAST CITIES LIKE

THE SUN:
BRIGHT HIVES OF POWER, OF JUSTICE AND

OF LOVE,
IN BRAINS LIKE THESE OUR ZION HAS-

BEGUN.
WHAT WILL YOU DO TO MAKE THEIR

THOUGHT COME TRUE?
OB WILL YOU TREAD THEIR PEARLS INTO

THE EARTH?
FRIENDS, WHEN SUCH VOICES RISE DESPITE

THE TIME,
WHAT ARE YOUR SHABBY, RICH MAN'S

TEMPLES WORTH?

THE EAGLE THAT IS FORGOTTEN.

(JOHN P. ALTGELD. BORN DEC. 30, 1847;

DIED MARCH 12, 1902.)
SLEEP SOFTLY * * * EAGLE FORGOTTEN

* * * UNDER THE STONE.
TIME HAS ITS WAY WITH YOU THERE, AND

THE CLAY HAS ITS OWN.
"WE HAVE BURIED HIM NOW," THOUGHT

YOUR FOES, AND IN SECRET REJOICED.
THEY MADE A BRAVE SHOW OF THEIR

MOURNING, THEIR HATRED UNVOICED.

THEY HAD SNARLED AT YOU, BABKEO AT

YOU, FOAMED AT YOU DAY AFTEE DAY,

NOW YOU WEBB ENDED. THEY PRAISED

YOU, * * * AND LAID YOU AWAY.

THE OTHERS THAT MOUBNED YOU IN

SILENCE AND TERROR AND TRUTH.
THE WIDOW BEREFT OF HER CRUST, AND

THE BOY WITHOUT YOUTH,
THE MOCKED AND THE SCORNED AND THE

WOUNDED, THE LAME AND THE POOR
THAT SHOULD HAVE BEMEMBERED FOR
EVER, * * * REMEMBER NO MORE.
WHERE ARE THOSE LOVERS OF YOURS, ON

WHAT NAME DO THEY CALL
THE LOST, THAT IN ARMIES WEPT OVER

YOUR FUNERAL* PALL?
THEY CALL ON THE NAMES OF A HUNDRED

HIGH- VALIANT ONES,
A HUNDRED WHITE EAGLES HAVE RISEN

THE SONS OF YOUR SONS,
THE ZEAL IN THEIR WINGS IS A ZEAL THAT

YOUR DREAMING BEGAN
THE VALOR THAT WORE OUT YOUR SOUL IN

THE SERVICE OF MAN.
SLEEP SOFTLY, * * * EAGLE FORGOTTEN,

* * * UNDER THE STONE,
TIME HAS ITS WAY WITH YOU THERE

AND THE CLAY HAS ITS OWN.
SLEEP ON, O BRAVE HEARTED, O WISE MAN,

THAT KINDLED THE FLAME

TO LIVE IN MANKIND IS FAB MOBE THAN

TO LIVE IN A NAME,
TO LIVE IN MANKIND, FAR FAR MORE * *

THAN TO LIVE IN A NAME.

TO THOSE THAT WOULD MEND
THESE TIMES.

GO PLANT THE ARTS THAT WOO THE

WEARIEST,
BOLD ARTS THAT SIMPLE WORKMEN UN-

DERSAND,
THAT MAKE NO POOR MEN AND KEEP ALL

MEN RICH,

AND THRONE OUR LADY BEAUTY IN THE
LAND!

TO THOSE THAT WOULD HELP THE
FALLEN.

GO PLANT THE CRAFTS THAT GIVE A DEEP
DELIGHT

TO ALL WHO MAKE, TO ALL WHO USE

AND SEE: —
NEW CRAFTS WHERE ROUGHEST MEN CAN

HINT AT THE THOUGHT
AND WRITE LIFE'S LYBIC IN A HAND SET

FREE:
THE DEATHLESS TOUCH OF AGES WORKED

ANEW

UPON THE DOOR OF EVERY TINIEST ROOM:
THE JOY OF LIVING PAINTED ON THE

WAIXS,

AND DAZZLING FABRICS WROUGHT ON ART'S

HOME-LOOM.
DECKING THE PARKS: VAIR, VELVET, SILK

AND GOLD:

OLD PAGEANTS MARCHING THAT WERE
LONG-TIME DEAD:

INNOCENT GAMBOLS, HARP AND SONG
AFOOT: —

TO PRAISE THE DAY WHEN ART AND FREE
DOM WED!

THE TRAP.

SHE WAS TAUGHT DESIRE IN THE STREET
NOT AT THE ANGEL'S FEET.
BY THE GOOD NO WORD WAS SAID
OF THE WORTH OF THE BRIDAL BED.
THE SECRET WAS LEARNED FROM THE VILE
NOT FROM HER MOTHER'S SMILE.
HOME SPOKE NOT. AND THE GIRL
WAS CAUGHT IN THE PUBLIC WHIRL,
DO YOU SAY "SHE GAVE CONSENT:
LIFE DRUNK, SHE WAS CONTENT
WITH BEASTS THAT HER FIRE COULD

PLEASE?"

BUT SHE DID NOT CHOOSE DISEASE
OF MIND AND NERVES AND BREATH.
SHE WAS TRAPPED TO A SLOW, FOUL

DEATH.

THE DOOR WAS WATCHED SO WELL,
THAT THE STEEP DARK STAIR TO HELL
WAS THE ONLY ESCAPING WAY * * *
"SHE GAVE CONSENT," YOU SAY?
SOME THINK SHE WAS MEEK AND GOOD
ONLY LOST IN THE WOOD
OF YOUTH, AND DECEIVED IN MAN
WHEN THE HUNGER OF SEX BEGAN
THAT TIES THE HUSBAND AND WIFE
TO THE END IN A STRONG FOND LIFE.
HER CAPTOR, BY CHANCE WAS ONE
OF THOSE WHOSE PASSION WAS DONK,
A COLD FIERCE WORM OF THE SEA
ENSLAVING FOR YOU AND ME.
THE WAGES THE POOR MUST TAKE
HAVE FORCED THEM TO SERVE THIS SNAKE.
YEA, HALF-PAID GIRLS MUST GO
FOR BREAD TO HIS PIT BELOW.
WHAT HANGMAN SHALL WAIT HIS HOST
OF BUTCHERS FROM COAST TO COAST,
NEW YORK TO THE GOLDEN GATE —
THE MERGER OF DEATH AND FATE,
LUST-KINGS WITH A CAREFUL PLAN
CLEAN-CUT, AMERICAN?
OH MOTHERS WHO FAILED TO TELL
THE MAZES OF HEAVEN AND HELL,
WHO FAILED TO ADVISE, IMPLORE
YOUR DAUGHTER AT LOVE'S STRANGE DOOR
WHAT WILL YOU DO THIS DAY?
YOUR DEAR ONES ARE HIDDEN AWAY,

AS GOOD AS CHAINED TO THE BED
HID LIKE THE MAD, OR THE DEAD: —
THE GLORIES OF ENDLESS YEARS
DROWNED IN THEIR HARLOT-TEARS :
THE CHILDREN THEY HOPED TO BEAR
GRANDCHILDREN STRONG AND FAIR
THE LIFE FOR AGES TO BE
CUT OFF LIKE A BLASTED TREK,
MURDERED IN FILTH IN A DAY,
SOMEHOW, BY THE MERCHANT (.AY!

IN LIBERTY'S NAME WE CRY

FOR THESE WOMEN ABOUT TO DIE.

WHAT SHALL BE SAID OF A STATE
WHERE TRAPS FOB THE WHITE BRIDES

WAIT?

OF SELLERS OF DRINK WHO PLAY
THE GAME FOR THE EXTRA PAY?
OF STATESMEN IN LEAGUE WITH ALL
WHO HOPE FOR THE GIRL-CHILD'S FALL?
OF BANKS WHERE HELL'S MONEY IS PAID
AND PHARISEES ALL AFRAID
OF PANDARS THAT HELP THEM SIN?
WHEN WILL OUR WRATH BEGIN?

TO REFORMERS IN DESPAIR.
'TIS NOT TOO LATE TO BUILD OUR YOUNG

LAND RIGHT,
CLEANER THAN HOLLAND, COURTLIER THAN

JAPAN,
DEVOUT LIKE EARLY ROME, WITH HEARTHS

LIKE HERS,
HEARTHS THAT WILL RECREATE THE BREED

CALLED MAN.

POEMS ON THE FAR
DISTANT FUTURE

THE LEGISLATURE.

OUT OF THE HEART OF AGES COMES THE
LAW,

THE SONS WILL HONOR WHAT THE SIRES
HAVE LEFT:

THEIR PROVERB IS THE FATHERS' CARE
LESS WIT,

THEIR HONESTY THE FATHERS' CARELESS
THEFT.

WHAT IS OUR FREEDOM BUT A CHANCE
TO GIVE

POSTERITY A NOBLE HOUSE FOR PLAY?

AND WILL OUR CHECKED AND BALANCED
LAWS BE CHAINS

TO HANG OUR CHILDREN IN AN EVIL DAY?

WE SAY WE WANT THE NATION TO BE
FREE,

YET THERE'S A CLANK IN EVERY LAW

WE WRITE.

WHY SHOULD WE WORK AT SUCH ILL-
OMENED STEEL?
TODAY THE FORGE IS LOUD, THE METAL

WHITE.
TODAY MAD BLOWS COME THICK AND FAST.

THE STEEL
YIELDS WELL, THAT SOON WILL COOL FOR-

EVERMORE.
WHAT HAVE OUR WILD BLOWS WROUGHT?

WHAT GRACELESS MOULD
WHERE MEN WILL POUR THEIR BLOOD

FOREVERMORE?

THE PILGRIMS FROM ASIA.

(IN THE DISTANT FUTURE.)
I HAVE WATCHED -MULTITUDES OF SCHOL
ARS COME

TO HAUNT YOUR FOOT-STEPS, LINCOLN, IN

OUR TOWN;
EACH PILGRIM PACING FROM THE DAYS TO

BE,

CLAD IN A GLITTERING STRANGE-RUSTLING
GOWN.

l'POX THEIR FLAGS AM) SASHES. CLOAKS

AND COATS
NEW ASIA'S SYMBOLS, RICH EMBROIDERED

THINGS;
(STRONG MEN, SET FREE FROM PRIDES

THAT LEAVE US PLAIN*,
BROCADED MORE THAN BABYLONIAN

KINGS : )
THEIR FACES TOUCHED WITH CULTURES

NOW UNKNOWN,
THEIR EYES ALIGHT WITH WISDOMS WE

DESIRE,
DOING LONG HONORS TO THE AUSTERE

DEAD,
WITH BANNER, PANTOMIME AND SONG

AND FIRE.

THOSE WORTHIER DAYS SHALL HAIL THEM
FREEDOM'S SEERS:

SELF-MASTERING CHIEFS WITH GENIUS
IN CONTROL.

AND YET, THAT MARVELLOUS WORLD SHALL
TURN TO THIS,

TRACING SWEET FREEDOM BACK TO LIN
COLN'S SOUL.

WE CANNOT CONQUER TIME.
WE CANNOT CONQUER TIME. SIT DOWN,

BREATHE SLOW,
AND MUSE A LITTLE, SINCE GREAT TIME

IS KING.
THE MOTH AND RUST SHALL DO THEIR

DESTINED WORK

UPON US, THOUGH WE POLISH EVERY
THING.
AND ALL OUR QUAINT ATTEMPTS TO BEAT

THE CLOCK
TO TREAD TIME DOWN TO DEATH WITH

HURRYING FEET,
SHALL SLOWLY END. WE WILL REAR HIGH

HIS FANE,
AND COUNT HIS EVERLASTING BONDAGE

MEET.
THE MOTH, THE RUST, THE IVY AND THE

BAIN,
THE HAIL AND SNOW EVEN TODAY WEAR

DOWN
EACH TOWER THAT SPEAKS OF NEWNESS

ALL TOO WELL,

EACH POMPOUS PALACE WITH ITS GLITTER
ING CROWN.
THE MOTH, THE RUST, THE IVY AND THE

RAIN,
THE HAIL AND SXOW AM) WIND. WILL, AT

THE LAST,
ENTER THE INNER HEART OF THIS OUR

RACE,
UNTIL WE LOVE NO FUTURE LIKE THE

PAST.

FINAL POEMS OF THE
ROAD

LAZARUS AND DIVES.

WRITTEN FOR THAT RARE CREATURE, A
PREOCCUPIED HOST.

i AM LAZARUS, POOR THEY SAY,

WAYSIDE DOGS ARE MINE FOR FRIENDS,
OX OUR SORES THE RAINS DESCENDS,
SCORN IS OURS THROUGHOUT THE DAY.

T AM LA/ARUS AT YOTR GATE.

BREAD IS Ml.NF, THE HITS THAT 1AM.

FROM YOUR AMPLE TABLK. All

CHANCE HAS SCATTERED FROM YOUR

PLATE.

WELL CONTENT, I TAKE MY SHARK.
'TIS A SORT OF TACIT RKJlI r.
NO MAN FOR MY CRUMB WILL FIGHT,
NO MAN DRIVES ME FROM THE STAIR.
DIVES, OF THE NOBLE HEART,
BY MISGIVING WORN AWAY!
WHETHER PLEASURES GO OR STAY
HOW YOU FUME AND BROOD AND START!
LAZARUS YOU NEVER SEE,
ALL THE LOAF OF LIFE YOU OWN.
MADE SO GOOD FOR YOU ALONE.
YET THIS CRUMB CO.MFS DOWN TO ME.

A PRAYER TO ALL THE DEAD AMONG

MINE OWN PEOPLE.
ARE THESE YOUR PRESENCES. MY CLAN

FROM HEAVEN?
ARE THESE YOUR HANDS UPON MY

WOUNDED SOUL?
MINE OWN, MINE OWN, BLOOD OF MY

BLOOD BE WITH ME,
FLY BY MY PATH TILL YOU HAVE MADE

ME WHOLE!

ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE.
ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE
WHAT WTILD OATS DID YOU SOW
WHEY YOU LEFT YOUR FATHER'S HOUSE
WITH YOUR CHEEKS AGLOW?
EYES SO STRAINED AND EAGER
TO SEE WHAT YOU MIGHT SEE?
WERE YOU THIEF OR WERE YOU FOOL
OR MOST NOBLY FREE?

WERE THE TRAMP-DAYS KMiillTM

TRUE SoWIN(, ol WILD SEED?

DID YOU DARE TO MAKE THE SONGS

VANQUISHED WORKMEN NEED?

DID YOU WASTE MUCH MONEY

TO DECK \ I FPKK's I I AST?

LOVE THE TRUTH. DEFY THE CROWD.

SCANDALIZE THE PRIEST?

ON THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

WHAT WILD OATS DID Yor SOW'.'

STUPIDS FIND THE NOWHERE-ROAD

DUSTY i.RIM AND SLOW.

ERE THEIB SOWING'S ENDED

THEY TURN THEM ON THEIR TRACK,

LOOK AT THE CATIFK CRAVEN WK.IUi'fe.

R EPE N T A X T, H U R R Y I X G HACK !

GROWN ASHAMED OF NOWHERE

OF RA(.S ENDURED FOR YEARS,

LUST FOR VELVET IN THEIR HI ARTS,.

PIERCED WITH MAMMoN's SPEAKS.

ALL BUT A FEW FANATICS

GIVE UP THEIR DARLING GOAL,

SEEK To HE AS OTHERS ARE,

-it i :nr\ i UK SOUK.

REA PINGS NOW CON I Uo NT "1 i I K M .

GLUT THEM, OR DESTROY.

CURIOUS SEEDS. GRAIN OR WEEDS

SOWN* WITH AWFUL JOY.

HURRIED IS THEIR HARVEST,

THEY MAKE SOFT PEACE WITH MEN..

PILGRIMS PASS. THEY CARE NOT,

WILL NOT TRAMP AGAIN.

OH NOWHERE, GOLDEN NOWHERE!

SAGES AND FOOLS GO ON

TO YOUR CHAOTIC OCEAN,

TO YOUR TREMENDOUS DAWN.

FAR IN YOUR FAIR DREAM-HAVEN.

IS NOTHING OR IS ALL * * *

THEY PRESS ON, SINGING, SOWINC

WILD DEEDS WITHOUT RECALL!

MR. LINDSAY OFFERS TUE FOLLOWING
SERMONS, TO BE PREACHED ON SHORT
NOTICE, AND WITHOUT A COLLECTION, IN
ANY CHAPEL THAT WILL OPEN ITS DOORS
AS HE PASSES BY: (1) THE GOSPEL OF
THE HEARTH. (2) THE GOSPEL OF VOL
UNTARY POVERTY. (3) THE HOLINESS <>F
BEAUTY.