| | | | The Hills in the Rain –1. |
| | | Cure for Mental Tiredness –8. |
| | | A ~ D \ On the Love of a Fool –9. |
| | | Reflections and – / Impressions –12. |
| | | Reflections &and Impressions –15-16. |
| | | Desire on Seeing the Ocean –17. |
| | | Written During Exams –18. |
| | | A ~ D \ Age in Youth –25. |
| | | The Woods are full of them –28. |
| | | []sicYouth’s False Departure[]sic32 |
| | | [Anthasian]sicAthanasian Creed –40. |
| | | The Lighting of the Lamps –41. |
| | | A ~ D x A ~ B The Child 43 |
| | | A ~ D x [Astors]sicAsters in a Bowl –46. |
| | | A Conversation between E. St. V. M.Millay &and R B..Rupert Brooke after Death –47. |
| | | The Cry of the Over-Sexed –55. |
| | | On Discussing CCanada with Ethe English –58 |
| | | A ~ D \ I Bring Pale Flowers –66. |
| | | A Symphony of the Senses.69 |
| | | [Prolongued]sicProlonged Crisis77. |
| | | A ~ B Nonsense A ~ B 104 |
| | | A ~ B The Grey &and Yellow Bird. A ~ B 107 |
| | | A ~ B Fragment A ~ B 108 |
| | | A ~ B Humidity A ~ B 111 |
| | | A ~ B The Statue A ~ B 111 |
| | | A ~ B Joy of Pain A ~ B 112 |
| | | A ~ B Insomnia A ~ B 113 |
| | | A ~ B The Small Room A ~ B 115. |
| | | A ~ B The Drug. A ~ B 117 |
| | | A ~ B Two Make a Pair A ~ B 118 |
| | | A ~ B Depression. A ~ B 120 |
| | | A ~ B Fairy Story A ~ B 121 |
| | | A ~ B The Ghost. A ~ B 121 |
| | | A ~ B Loneliness A ~ B 122 |
| | | A ~ B Pretense A ~ B 123 |
| | | Oh I love the A desolateness B desolation B desolateness of the hills, |
| | | And the lonesome feel of the rushing wind; |
| | | I love A this B the rain, which softly fills |
| | | The heart of me A ~ B &and B ~ with a glorious kind |
| | | Of happiness, too deep for words; |
| | | And I love to feel I’ve left the town behind, |
| | | And to know that all the horses A ~ B beasts B ~ &and birds |
| | | Are one with me A ~ B there B ~ in spirit and A ~ B in B ~ mind. |
| | | That’s why I love the hills in the rain, |
| | | They bring only peacefulness, cure mental / pain. |
| | | All grey were their faces |
| | | Their hands were blue-fingered, |
| | | And white was their hair. |
| | | Her A wearn A weary mind, engulfed with dread |
| | | Was to her intimates, as dead. |
| | | Her very soul, her very heart |
| | | Were in a cage &and dared not part. |
| | | for worry in its worst degree |
| | | Had just obsessed her bodily. |
| | | I lived in the town, Depression, |
| | | And I lived in the house, Despair, |
| | | When I came home in the evening |
| | | I knew Sorrow was waiting there. |
| | | Joy always went out to parties |
| | | A With A ~ And took Smiles as a chaperone, |
| | | But Frowns would be always with me |
| | | With a dull, sad note in her tone. |
| | | Discontent would sit by the fireside |
| | | And tell all the tales that he knew. |
| | | Often Moods would come in to see me |
| | | And Discontent used to come too. |
| | | Delight would go in the morning |
| | | And would never come back till night[]sic. |
| | | Old Madness used to torment me |
| | | And often be followed by Fright. |
| | | Till one day Discontent took me with her |
| | | And I danced with Youth for awhile |
| | | Then Discontent came gently &and taught me |
| | | That Life was at least worth a / smile. |
| | | And God, they said, is here &and there, |
| | | But God, thought I, between clenched teeth, |
| | | Oh give me youth and love &and fire, |
| | | And the joy of the life I’m living. |
| | | And meet me under yonder brier |
| | | And give me that worth giving. |
| | | Oh give me love, I pray of you, |
| | | My heart is hard &and cold, |
| | | And show me that the skies are blue |
| | | Though she does not say it |
| | | With tempests in and tempests out |
| | | I feel that I have sinned, |
| | | That somehow life is not quite right |
| | | And love is not too smooth |
| | | That even the sun is a bit too bright |
| | | And that death, alone, can soothe. |
| | | But then the strength of the hills was mine |
| | | for I walked on the hills undaunted, |
| | | And even the blood-red banner of love |
| | | I laughed at, mocked &and flaunted. |
| | | If it were not for the rain, |
| | | that sleet-grey something |
| | | with its soothing powers, |
| | | that cool refreshing sense of |
| | | the world would be a hectic place |
| | | would produce a mental fever, |
| | | whole nations would go mad |
| | | The sun-god is a hungry god, |
| | | and sucks up the moisture |
| | | that goes to make life liveable. |
| | | Why do you cry that the world is grey A ? B , |
| | | That love never A shatters B taps on your window-pane? |
| | | Why do you cry that life is old, |
| | | That sympathy stifles, fate is bold? |
| | | Why do you cry that the world is grey? |
| | | for spring, half heaven is here again. |
| | | Why do you say that the river is deep, |
| | | That God is relentless &and black is the sun? |
| | | Why do you say that beauty has left, |
| | | That cleverness sickens &and you are bereft? |
| | | A ~ B Why do you say that the river is deep |
| | | for a world of flowers has just begun. |
| | | Is there heaven? we cry, or only Hell, A ” B ~ |
| | | Is there happiness, subtlety, only pain? |
| | | We moan, we sigh, we buy &and we sell |
| | | And start all over &and try again. |
| | | “Are there real ghosts &and what is the sun? |
| | | Why is life cruel &and what are our goals? |
| | | [Purety]sicPurity, cleverness, passion – or none – |
| | | Are we alive or only our souls? |
| | | Why do we eat? To keep us alive? |
| | | Do we want to live A or B on only to die? |
| | | Life is uncertain; we’re bees in a hive – |
| | | Why think &and be clever? A Just B just suffer – but why?[]sic” |
| | | Oh to get away from oneself, |
| | | To forget that self even exists, |
| | | To live in the realms of others |
| | | On geometrical angles &and twists. |
| | | To forget that one’s head is a-throbbing |
| | | And to think all realities, mists. |
| | | But Fate is not as we’d like it, |
| | | These dreams of life haven’t come yet, |
| | | Oh, to get into oneself – |
| | | To get in and then – A – B ~ just A ~ B to forget! |
| | | Cure for Mental Tiredness. |
| | | If ever you have time to face |
| | | The cool tranquilities of space |
| | | Recline and A kep A ~ keep your mind at rest |
| | | for that, alone, I find is best. |
| | | A wind blew over the hill, |
| | | It chilled the new green grass; |
| | | The sun was covered by clouds |
| | | for I saw no shadows pass. |
| | | It was cold and bleak and grey, |
| | | Yet it filled me with delight, |
| | | for the [ecstacy]sicecstasy of being alone |
| | | Made the earth and me unite. |
| | | I sat on the ground and I sang to the sky |
| | | I filled my lungs with the cold, clear air. |
| | | Why was I happy? I don’t know why A . B ; |
| | | But I know that the wind tied knots in my hair. |
| | | A ~ D (accepted & printed by The Observer Dec. 2 34) |
| | | That fluttered in my hair; |
| | | And when I peeped within my hand |
| | | I found A just B but star-dust there. |
| | | A man and a moon and a mountain; |
| | | A night of stillness and song; |
| | | The wind in the flowers and a fountain; |
| | | Yet Life seems to struggle along. |
| | | Ah! yes my mind is empty, |
| | | And true, my eyes are sightless, |
| | | And my young soul rebels. |
| | | My lips are often wordless, |
| | | Yet, somehow my whole being |
| | | Pulsates with love for you. |
| | | They say my hands are useless, |
| | | My heart is in its prime, |
| | | And that my ways are foolish. |
| | | That I, who am so A helper A ~ helpless, |
| | | Should concentrate so much on you |
| | | That Youth is left behind? |
| | | There is blackness all around me, |
| | | Blacker than the deepest night, |
| | | Mental anguish; thoughts surround me, |
| | | Tear me, pull me, press me, hound A ; B me, |
| | | And the beating of my pulses |
| | | Is as horses all a- A frighty B fright . |
| | | And my eyes are full of longing, |
| | | Full of eager, anxious looks, |
| | | And the feelings that are thronging |
| | | Do not seem to me belonging, |
| | | for they’re fierce and wild &and fearless |
| | | Like the ravens and the rooks. |
| | | And my blood that once was crazy |
| | | With a fervid, heated force, |
| | | Acts as though it now were lazy, |
| | | And all nights seem slightly hazy |
| | | Due to unexpressed emotions; |
| | | And my life is all remorse. |
| | | When you wandered over the hills, |
| | | Those grey-green hills with me, |
| | | And then fell down, exhausted utterly. |
| | | When we spoke of sacred things |
| | | And smelled the damp moist earth, |
| | | Yet were inclined to scoff |
| | | At the God that gave them birth. |
| | | When the sun was going down |
| | | And the dusk was just beginning |
| | | The stifled feel in our throats |
| | | Made us feel that we were sinning. |
| | | Yet we cared not, and we feared |
| | | for Youth is rash at times |
| | | And we thought of naught but ourselves |
| | | And longed for tropical climes, |
| | | for the wind was getting up |
| | | And our sense of peace was gone. |
| | | Oh Youth is a beautiful thing, |
| | | or seems so when it is done. |
| | | Have you noticed the beauty yonder, |
| | | Above the mountains’ crest? |
| | | Yes it is best, it is best. |
| | | Much more is it lovely than diamonds are, |
| | | Oh gaze not at earth, but up higher, afar, |
| | | for the dreams of a maiden are caught in / a net |
| | | And the hands that A carresed B caressed them are dewy / and wet. |
| | | At the dreams of a maiden, |
| | | Look deeply, yet tenderly, lest you forget |
| | | They are dreams of a maiden all caught / in a net |
| | | Reflections &and Impressions. |
| | | Let it drift through your fingers |
| | | Cock blue lights and straight |
| | | A queer and morbid creature |
| | | With sleepy, half-shut eyes, |
| | | Like moonbeams on the quiet water, |
| | | And finely-pencilled brows |
| | | And a mouth dangerously tender. |
| | | Counteract her grey hairs |
| | | Which are [beautifically]sicbeatifically silver |
| | | Like the clear ring of a small |
| | | The slender curves of her figure, |
| | | Her swinging, care-free walk |
| | | Make her a goddess in Hell. |
| | | VWizened, with a Face Like an |
| | | Wizened, with a face like an |
| | | Only an apple with a sound heart |
| | | A ~ C Ph C ~ A ~ C Fantasy |
| | | Elfin, sprite of the woods, |
| | | Bring your pipe and come. |
| | | Let the peaceful, A s A ~ blue smoke |
| | | Oh Elfin, sprite of the woods, |
| | | Twist your legs around yonder bluebell |
| | | And wear the bells as little |
| | | They seem like smooth pebbles |
| | | In the light of a crystal moon. |
| | | VIIIYours is This Last Summer |
| | | Yours is this last summer. |
| | | Your A au†urn B auburn hair soon will blend |
| | | With the autumnal tints of the trees[]sic. |
| | | Let your heart rejoice, it must spend |
| | | Its days with the soft drone of the bees. |
| | | Take unto yourself all the beauty |
| | | And cast aside worry and care. |
| | | Live, for this is your last summer, |
| | | And let me live in the light of your hair. |
| | | IX“Ha, Ha – I am All-Glorious,” She Cries |
| | | Ha, ha – I am all-glorious, she cries, |
| | | And my hair, my beautiful hair |
| | | But A shes B she knows not |
| | | That her face lacks expression |
| | | That her A hearts B heart |
| | | That her heart lacks love. |
| | | XYou Would Recognize Her Shadow |
| | | You would recognize her shadow |
| | | for the atmosphere it has, |
| | | You would know, at once, her grave, |
| | | Long after she were dead; |
| | | And her funny, grating voice |
| | | You know it when she thinks of you, |
| | | And understand her meaning. |
| | | You would recognize her too, |
| | | By the love that issues forth |
| | | And her never-failing sympathy |
| | | Like a south wind rushing north |
| | | To melt the frosty icicles &and get the snow away. |
| | | Oh you couldn’t help but know her |
| | | As her smile is always gay. |
| | | Desire on Seeing the Ocean. |
| | | I long to dive into your aquamarine / depths, |
| | | To cleave your freshness with my body; |
| | | To feel the rushing of your waters |
| | | On my back and breasts and forehead, |
| | | That you have risen just a fraction |
| | | Those who are made of sterner stuff |
| | | Those who are made of sterner stuff |
| | | Can drill equations in their brain |
| | | And bear up under all the strain. |
| | | Their minds are full with history dates |
| | | And chem. result, taxation rates, |
| | | They do not fret nor worry, yet |
| | | A Why † A ~ No need to, for the marks they’ll get |
| | | Are high and glowing: how we hate |
| | | Those people who can concentrate. |
| | | The night soothed my brain &and the wind cooled / my face, |
| | | The light of the stars and the peace of the place |
| | | Brought terrible pictures |
| | | Of night-maresnightmares and things |
| | | And birds with soft A winds B wings |
| | | Flew past my body &and into the dark. |
| | | And the light of the stars seemed to sicken my / sense. |
| | | And the light of the stars |
| | | Yes, weeping in the marble stair. |
| | | The glorious passages of air. |
| | | And sprinkle star-dust in our eyes, |
| | | Upon the splendorsplendour of the skies. |
| | | And naked, run through leafy bowers. |
| | | forget the passing of the hours. |
| | | I love the leafy stillnesses, |
| | | The swishing of the wind, |
| | | The swirling of the river, |
| | | And the town left miles behind. |
| | | I love the lengthy silences |
| | | That speak in times forgotten, |
| | | Which none can understand but me |
| | | Which none can even hear but me |
| | | And the smell of wood all rotten. |
| | | I love grey skies above my head |
| | | And Nature breathing everywhere |
| | | And Nature breathing everywhere |
| | | Oh life it is complete[]sic. |
| | | Return with your heart full of love, |
| | | Your arms full of flowers, |
| | | Your lips full of singing |
| | | And your eyes full of joy, |
| | | for I am old with the trials |
| | | Of this world. My heart needs refreshing |
| | | With the delicious cleanness of Youth. |
| | | O come with me over the hill tops |
| | | And climb up the moon’s pale rays |
| | | O come, with bare feet &and hair flowing |
| | | Where wild flowers &and grasses are growing |
| | | And the sky is A a B ~ deep blue up above |
| | | And elfins cavort &and sing praise |
| | | O come, &and your heart will be loving |
| | | Your mind will be free from all care, |
| | | And dew, with a beautiful sparkle |
| | | Will rest on your hands, &and your hair. |
| | | Your lips, they will open with gladness, |
| | | Your eyes, they will glisten with love |
| | | And only the heavens will know it, |
| | | The glorious splendours above. |
| | | There was the hush of the morning |
| | | And a soft breeze stirring the flowers; |
| | | There was the day just dawning |
| | | And nothing but long, still hours; |
| | | There was the rippling river, |
| | | The peacefulness, mountains &and trees |
| | | When I thought to myself, for ever |
| | | One’s heart can want naught but these. |
| | | The summer was long &and dusty |
| | | And the autumn was bleak &and bare |
| | | When I thought to myself, Why, Beauty |
| | | Cannot be found everywhere. |
| | | My breast was just beaten with sorrow |
| | | My mind was distorted with pain |
| | | When I thought to myself “I’ll borrow |
| | | Love, and be happy again.[]sic” |
| | | The human side of nature is divine |
| | | The harsher side is horrid &and uncouth, |
| | | How strange, that through this searching / soul of mine |
| | | I cling with longing to Eternal Youth. |
| | | We, who have spent our lives |
| | | Conquering fears &and singing all the day, |
| | | Playing with flowers but throwing grass / away, |
| | | Playing with mud as woman plays with / man. |
| | | We, who have spent our A years B youth |
| | | In Nature’s sheltered bowers, |
| | | Clung to the beautiful, as something / that was ours, |
| | | When we are faced with life, filth &and / reality |
| | | When we are faced with love, Hell &and / humility |
| | | We are amazed, frightened &and horrified, |
| | | Constantly mystified, constantly / terrified. |
| | | Until a few short years have passed. |
| | | A for A ~ Time changes every thing at last. |
| | | Over the earth &and over the river |
| | | I’m known to man as the greatest giver; |
| | | But I have crumbled Death in my hand, |
| | | Which only the Prophets understand. |
| | | And the soul stands still |
| | | Beats monotonously, like thunder; |
| | | On the cool, green grass, |
| | | Then open my hand to look for A death B Death , |
| | | But lo, [its]sicit’s gone as I draw new breath. |
| | | A ~ D \ D ✓ The very essence of your heart was mine; |
| | | I bathed in it &and it suffused my being. |
| | | It bore me onward to the golden shrine |
| | | Whereat I worshipped you, until, at last, / unseeing |
| | | I ventured from the radiant light of you |
| | | Into the night, alone, my heart, alone, |
| | | Clambered o’er rocks &and from the sight of you |
| | | Guided by love &and feelings too well known. |
| | | It was pitch black; I felt victorious – |
| | | Until I saw one iridescent star |
| | | That shone &and winked at me, it was all-/ glorious. |
| | | Your beauty paled, you seemed to me, afar. |
| | | Your lips were passionless, your eyes, / lack-lustre |
| | | You could not equal such illustrious light, |
| | | And then I knew – I knew my soul must / muster |
| | | An ill-spent strength &and banish you that / night. |
| | | my soul has lost its freshness. |
| | | With a pain where my heart should be; |
| | | smiles &and pretends [its]sicit’s happy |
| | | Oh! when will they learn, |
| | | these people, always with me, |
| | | and A can’t bear B hate their continual noise? |
| | | A God B No ! I want peace |
| | | A [And]sicand B and the piercing quiet of nature |
| | | and the dark, moist earth, |
| | | instead of their petty joys. |
| | | Ah God! are they shallow? |
| | | A B A ~ by a gnawing pain |
| | | where a rapturous heart should be? |
| | | [Its]sicit’s merely called |
| | | Whose very lines give forth a golden-glow; |
| | | That meets the world in terms of Yes or No. |
| | | So passionate, yet with a tender bow; |
| | | And curling hair as white as driven snow. |
| | | And active – A sli A ~ so slim, so supple too |
| | | That doubtless were only made for you |
| | | So sensitive, as if just bathed in dew |
| | | A Oh B ~ you’re so graceful &and so charming |
| | | The Woods are Full of Them. |
| | | You ask me if I love you, |
| | | You say it means your life. |
| | | But others have before you |
| | | And they have each a wife. |
| | | That I’m your breath &and food; |
| | | But better ones come later |
| | | Better &and twice as good. |
| | | I’m not your inspiration. |
| | | Don’t wince, it is a fact. |
| | | [Its]sicIt’s merely empty passion |
| | | That drives you to this act. |
| | | Such empty childish passion – |
| | | forget me for a month or two |
| | | And there’ll be plenty more. |
| | | And though I’ve my profession |
| | | I have sacrificed my life. |
| | | And thus I cast love from me |
| | | With a forced, yet icy look. |
| | | But A now B since my heart is empty |
| | | To flourish as A I A ~ a writer |
| | | Now that [Ive]sicI’ve let love pass by |
| | | It was you who gave me the courage |
| | | To look people straight in the face, |
| | | And strange, it was you who induced me |
| | | To step up &and sit in your place. |
| | | Oh! creature elusive and lovely |
| | | You ran from my grasp and up higher |
| | | You painted the mountains with snows |
| | | Yet you painted the sun with red fire. |
| | | I scrambled to catch you in vain, |
| | | for you slid down a ray to the ground |
| | | And under the caverns of man |
| | | You explored countless treasures unfound. |
| | | Then with hands still pure white with the / truth |
| | | You sped up the mountains again |
| | | I followed you always with longing |
| | | Though tortured with anguish &and pain |
| | | Ah fairy! What else could you be? |
| | | You placed me at last by your side |
| | | On the pinnacles Truth, Faith &and Fame. |
| | | Then you just sat down quietly &and died. |
| | | To be added to The Spangled / Unicorn. |
| | | I’ve got a mammy with a heart of gold. |
| | | She lost a baby &and a [nickle]sicnickel at the zoo |
| | | The baby didn’t matter – we still have two |
| | | But the [nickle]sicnickel – Hell |
| | | A [Its]sicIt B It means – oh well – |
| | | A It means B ~ A no B [no]sicNo new tooth brush |
| | | I’ll have to find a cowboy |
| | | Ursula! my beauty-maiden. |
| | | Name just like a juicy pair |
| | | when the great god snows, |
| | | Look on this day, when A †uth B Youth A ha A ~ is left behind |
| | | Not as a dreary one, a weary one |
| | | Let your troubles play with him, |
| | | Cast them all away with him. |
| | | Think not that your beauty is now hard to find. |
| | | Beauty in the old is A more B less rare than in the young; |
| | | Harsh lines soften, often, often. |
| | | Youth admires the beautiful, he will not depart |
| | | You will find him lurking in the corners of your / heart. |
| | | Into the silent woods I walked, |
| | | Unhappy with dead yesterdays |
| | | I sat &and with my spirit talked, |
| | | Alas! – my world just fell apart. |
| | | The air was heavy as my heart. |
| | | The past! the past! I cried in vain, |
| | | Oh! how relentless is the pain. |
| | | I thought my sobs fell all unheard |
| | | But ah God, no – there piped a bird. |
| | | Only the moon, that slender crescent |
| | | Heart, keep still, A [its]sicit’s B ’tis only the moon. |
| | | Only the rain, so soft, grey-fingered |
| | | Heart, keep still, A [its]sicit’s B ’tis only the rain. |
| | | Only the wind, yes, whistling, whining, |
| | | Playing among A thes A ~ the pines: |
| | | Heart, keep still, A [its]sicit’s B ’tis only the wind. |
| | | Only a thought of cherished moments |
| | | Heart, keep still, A [its]sicit’s B [tis]sic’tis only a thought. |
| | | To let you go &and leave you, |
| | | Where, once, the accents of your |
| | | Your pleasure would come first |
| | | I’ve thought, &and now Yes darling |
| | | Just once or twice in a lifetime |
| | | Does a fresh breeze blow in our face |
| | | And we choose not the time or the place. |
| | | It comes when we least expect it, |
| | | It comes – oh we know not when. |
| | | And it fills our hearts with gladness |
| | | That is not often felt by men. |
| | | And Love will bear us along.? |
| | | Our song’s A depe A ~ deceptive &and flat |
| | | for life’s not really like that. |
| | | Grey hairs – you are my attraction, |
| | | Grey hairs – drive me to distraction. |
| | | Three, no four, delightful people now |
| | | Have won me with their smiles |
| | | And the grey upon their brow. |
| | | My God! how do you do it? |
| | | You are putting me through it |
| | | Please go – leave my heart with me |
| | | To escape those grey hairs |
| | | Grey hairs, A y A ~ others aren’t in it. |
| | | Grey hairs, you’ll be my death. |
| | | My long-awaited solitude has gone – |
| | | Gone with the first leaf’s fall, |
| | | Only the twittering notes of a sparrow’s / call |
| | | Tell me that life goes on |
| | | That winds in quiet aloofness |
| | | Speaks in tones forgotten |
| | | And lift the cold receiver from the phone |
| | | Though I may long &and long to be alone. |
| | | Ah! Nature! Why make such creatures |
| | | With such all-glorious features[]sic? |
| | | They hold my heart &and my soul |
| | | In fact they capture my whole. |
| | | And my eyes are seeking the Stars. |
| | | And gaze upon Saturn &and Mars. |
| | | Just for A a A ~ the moment |
| | | And clutch at the sheets of the bed. |
| | | And rise with a pain in my head. |
| | | When I Think of You Who Meant All to Me |
| | | When I think of you who meant all to me, |
| | | When I think of how you would call to me, |
| | | To you it meant nothing, I realize now |
| | | But those calls to me were divine. |
| | | I sometimes wonder &and ask myself how |
| | | Devotion could act just like wine. |
| | | Then I think of your eyes so tender, dear[.]sic |
| | | So tender &and oh! so kind. |
| | | Then I think how your words could render, dear, |
| | | Storms in this narrow mind. |
| | | It’s queer how you’ve changed from a / glorious god |
| | | To a being less near than a brother[]sic. |
| | | It’s queer what even on humble sod |
| | | One sex can do to another. |
| | | It was a dull &and gloomy day, |
| | | The trees all swayed &and moaned &and / wailed |
| | | But life was full of love. |
| | | It’s queer, how, when the weather’s / wet, |
| | | How, when the skies are grey |
| | | Most people don’t feel sad, &and yet |
| | | Why feel? [I]sicIt doesn’t pay. |
| | | It hurts, ah God! it hurts. |
| | | How can we bear to sit &and stare |
| | | At a sunset golden &and red? |
| | | It stabs the heart with beauty rare, |
| | | The heart, yes, not the head. |
| | | A Delusions C Illusions. |
| | | Do you remember how we rode together? |
| | | With the wind in our face &and our hair |
| | | And swam whatever the weather |
| | | And laughed at our bodies bare? |
| | | Do you remember how we played together? |
| | | And thought that for ever &and ever |
| | | Our life was to be delight? |
| | | [Anthasian]sicAthanasian Creed. |
| | | Anthasian Creed? – I’m told to write |
| | | But ignorance it checks me here, |
| | | I’ve never heard the phrase before |
| | | Considering I’m forced to write, |
| | | Some nonsense will I put. |
| | | Alas! my mind has gone quite blank, |
| | | No help A in it A ~ is found in it; |
| | | And so I think before I write |
| | | I’ll have to learn a bit. |
| | | The Lighting of the Lamps. |
| | | The lamplighter is old &and withered &and grey, |
| | | He comes round every night about dark. |
| | | He’s sleeping &and eating the whole of the day |
| | | But at night he lights lamps in the park. |
| | | I look through my window, I peep as he goes |
| | | When I’m meant to be going to bed. |
| | | It’s such a temptation. Oh! nobody A knew A ~ knows |
| | | for three nights ago Mummy said: |
| | | Don’t waste your time, darling, now take / [of]sicoff your socks[]sic, |
| | | You have years to see lamplighter men. |
| | | Come, off with your panties, don’t get on / the box, |
| | | When you’re older, you’ll look at him then. |
| | | It’s no use complaining, but oh! don’t / they know |
| | | That it’s now I like lamplighter man |
| | | When I’m older I’ll be like my parents &and so |
| | | I [wont]sicwon’t want to look out at him then. |
| | | I was beset by beauty – that old thrill |
| | | Of reading till the very pages, still |
| | | Of common paper, no more seemed; |
| | | The words alone were there. |
| | | And then, once more I dreamed |
| | | That all the words were true! |
| | | Visions of glorious sunsets |
| | | [Blazened]sicBlazoned before my eyes; |
| | | Luscious buds just bursting |
| | | Caused me pained surprizesurprise; |
| | | Seemed the A one B ~ only thing |
| | | That my soul delighted in. |
| | | or maid with mop or broom |
| | | Shattered all these joys. |
| | | A ~ B Cast my mind in gloom |
| | | I stirred, A †† B the , the light was dim |
| | | My very hands seemed old. |
| | | I looked – the fire was out |
| | | A ~ D ✓ Yes, I loved you – |
| | | [Yours]sicYour ways were wild |
| | | Then something came between |
| | | Ah! never mind, one day you’ll discover |
| | | That the child has another lover. |
| | | To love &and then to forget, |
| | | To love &and then to remember. |
| | | A life of broken hearts &and disillusionments. |
| | | And conflicts drain the mind of force. |
| | | To love &and then to forget. |
| | | Have you ever loved with all that is in you? |
| | | Poured forth your heart at another’s feet? |
| | | Been loved in return with a passionate fire |
| | | Then found yourself standing on the castles / you built? |
| | | Have you ever – but no, I can go no further, |
| | | for the Hell of it all is too much. |
| | | We concoct worries to counteract such / experiences |
| | | And then years later, having become hardened |
| | | Laugh at our own unfortunate youth. |
| | | You have broken my heart, |
| | | Always ready for your love |
| | | Always reaching out to you |
| | | Long as stars &and sun will shine |
| | | Strange how, on the eve of departure |
| | | We long for a few days more |
| | | And think of the past, not the future, |
| | | And all that it held in store. |
| | | How we hate all good-byes that are cheery |
| | | for we feel they don’t mean anything |
| | | Yet of sad ones we also are leary |
| | | for grief’s a tempestuous thing. |
| | | [Astors]sicAsters in a Bowl. |
| | | [Astors]sicAsters in a bowl! |
| | | I pity you – you never knew him. |
| | | This little life of yours has gone for naught, |
| | | But then, it was the daffodils that slew him |
| | | My heart says No. because I loved him so. |
| | | But love is overpowering, so they say. |
| | | Perhaps I stifled him –&and yet the flowers – |
| | | He was so queer that day. |
| | | I knew it not till later, but it did. |
| | | It died a tragic death amid |
| | | [Astors]sicAsters, I pity you |
| | | [To]sicToo late from out your earthy beds |
| | | A Conversation between E. St. V. Millay / &and Rupert Brooke after Death. |
| | | How strange it is to meet you here[]sic. |
| | | I asked my mother once – she said |
| | | That if I followed where you led |
| | | I really [mind]sicmight do well, how should |
| | | I know she meant celestial food. |
| | | Now I am dead, think only this of me: |
| | | That there’s some corner A of A ~ in this wide, blue / heaven |
| | | That is, for aye, my workshop. There shall be |
| | | No mockery or days of failure ev’n. |
| | | A girl, whom the States bore, shaped, made / aware, |
| | | Gave once her flowers to love, her ways to / roam |
| | | And all you did was copy me, nor care |
| | | That what you wrote was just as froth / or foam. |
| | | Down the long paths of life, |
| | | Through the pink clouds of Hell, |
| | | We wander, &and yet press forward, |
| | | Clutching at helpless things |
| | | With ever moving fingers; |
| | | At nettles with sharp stings |
| | | And prickles &and knife-edges, |
| | | And the awful pain still lingers |
| | | We claw &and grasp but still go on, |
| | | We shake &and whimper, but in vain. |
| | | This awful life continues |
| | | And our bodies yet our own. |
| | | We wonder at the clever &and scoff at the insane, |
| | | And then – a while before A b A ~ we die, |
| | | With groping hands &and mouldy heart, |
| | | With parting breath, soon, soon to part, |
| | | God! the joy of something warm &and tender. |
| | | Then lest we lose it soon |
| | | We squeeze A † A ~ it hard, glad for a minute – |
| | | It is not so soft now our fingers are in it. |
| | | And looking down with bleary eyes |
| | | Gaze on the awful sight of a young bird[]sic. |
| | | Yes, by our hand it dies! |
| | | One moment of joy then misery; |
| | | And after having taken breath, |
| | | Why should the trees be rooted? |
| | | Why should the trees be rooted |
| | | Such plaintiff arms they stretch, |
| | | Why should the trees be rooted? |
| | | Why should the trees be rooted |
| | | The night arrives on velvet-sandalled feet |
| | | With constant side-long glances of retreat; |
| | | Yet on it draws, till gradually it closes |
| | | A His B Its cloak of darkness o’er the slumbering roses. |
| | | With soft caressing hands A he B it shuts each flower, |
| | | Surrounds the world more densely every hour; |
| | | Encourages the stars to shine &and beckons |
| | | The moon to shed A her B its radiance on the earth. |
| | | I love him with his whispering, silky movements, |
| | | for it was night when my delight had birth. |
| | | The [invisable]sicinvisible mockery of a loveless age – |
| | | Oh! how it eats one’s heart! |
| | | How the naked nights of grief |
| | | Just tear one’s soul apart. |
| | | How one longs without knowing |
| | | Just to love &and live &and love |
| | | And grasp with heart o’erflowing |
| | | A beauteous thing, which growing |
| | | I think I have always loved you |
| | | But never known till now. – |
| | | Your sad, grey eyes &and tired careworn brow. |
| | | You played on my very heart-strings |
| | | In a tender subtle strain, |
| | | And, fool that I was, I probed into my brain |
| | | for the reaction; none was there. |
| | | I conjured up a hundred different feelings, |
| | | All were false. And then the air |
| | | Quite quickly grew unhappy |
| | | My head I found was bowed. |
| | | I kneel before you now, with eyes downcast, |
| | | I love you, love you, cried my soul at last. |
| | | A dreamy stillness lurks within its walls |
| | | And echoing A ef A ~ elfin laughter fills its halls. |
| | | An atmosphere of hazy listlessness |
| | | Which soothes the worried head &and ruptured / heart. |
| | | A silence [with]sicwhich commands the beautiful |
| | | To grow &and live &and A never to B nevermore depart. |
| | | A lovely place with nooks &and crevices |
| | | And dim, dark shadows, soft with ancient / dreams |
| | | And flashing lights from fancy’s imagery |
| | | Dance on the whitened walls &and age old / beams. |
| | | A very A d A ~ place of sorrow &and delight, |
| | | A place of new-born hope, a magic whole, |
| | | That even, just to rest there for a night |
| | | Brings sweet content unto a lifeless soul. |
| | | Swathed in an oyster dress |
| | | With pearls in your ears. |
| | | Soon filled my eyes with tears. |
| | | Fell down around your feet, |
| | | The world was full of song, |
| | | Your laugh was like a A †††† B bell, A bell, B ~ |
| | | Rushed up into my throat. |
| | | What, though they laughed at him, |
| | | But whose the gain[.]sic? |
| | | And so to-day, A a A ~ with nothing left but taste of last / [nights’]sicnight’s wine |
| | | That mad night – how thought I then that it was / grand &and fine? |
| | | My one remaining thought is sour &and bitter. |
| | | My pulse still beats the same as days before |
| | | This A man A ~ madness. Yet I say |
| | | It was a fairy home I had |
| | | And on my brow my mother pressed |
| | | And in my heart, at rest, unstressed |
| | | It was a fairy home I had |
| | | It is a crystal house I have |
| | | With glittering walls around |
| | | Where people have not learned the joy |
| | | By unborn hands. All is alloy |
| | | A mixture &and a mound[]sic. |
| | | It is a crystal house I have |
| | | With snow drops on the ground. |
| | | My father’s ashes? They still glow |
| | | But life is just an overflow. |
| | | A ~ C On Discussing Canada with the English. |
| | | You say you hate the prairies, the long stretches |
| | | of wheat &and A p A ~ corn &and tousled, wind-blown flowers. |
| | | You say you hate the young cow-hand who / fetches |
| | | the cattle from the grass in twilight hours. |
| | | You say you’d sooner see the people round / you |
| | | A and eat gross A ~ the cluttered roads &and houses / thick with man, |
| | | and eat gross dinners, with phlegmatic / people, |
| | | of Yorkshire pudding, good roast beef &and ham. |
| | | You tell me that the prairies are depressing |
| | | and that you find such solitude a bore; |
| | | you say – but no ..… I say [its]sicit’s too / distressing, |
| | | I’ve listened to A these monologues B such talks as these before. |
| | | I’ve heard the same words spoken, yes, / already |
| | | by fumbling lips, unknowing &and unknown – |
| | | Ah! God – the very thought makes me / unsteady |
| | | Come prairies, come, for A † A ~ I am all alone[..]sic. |
| | | Yours is my soul &and I give it |
| | | as a sacrament, tattered &and torn, |
| | | tattered &and torn, yes &and worn. |
| | | Open your heart [than]sicthat is fuller |
| | | than mine, dear, could possibly be, |
| | | open &and take, don’t discard it, |
| | | the sacrament, given by me. |
| | | Don’t ask me why, just accept it, |
| | | constantly battered by love, |
| | | battered &and shattered by love. |
| | | I am the giver, the gainer, |
| | | you are the loser, perhaps. |
| | | But, God, take it now, I implore you, |
| | | take it ere ever it snaps. |
| | | A really common heart she had, |
| | | An unbecoming way of speech |
| | | A painted mouth &and broken shoes |
| | | silk-stockings, different hues. |
| | | She learned to have exalted thoughts |
| | | And learned to modulate her voice. |
| | | A well-dressed woman, now, they say |
| | | Yet falseness holds her in its sway. |
| | | A To Violet. B [The Change]sicTo Violet |
| | | Grey London, grey cars, grey faces, |
| | | A A B a fog, a night of weary happenings – |
| | | [A]sica life, quite changeless &and monotonous |
| | | like a wheel turning with its cogs / worn down. |
| | | A sombre life – a dirty pigeon flying, |
| | | a lot of filthy garbage in a pail, |
| | | an errand-boy – anaemic, with a / parcel[]sic, |
| | | a working man, venereal &and smooth. |
| | | Then like the lightning in a thunder storm |
| | | a flashing sports car dashes through the / street |
| | | yet driven sanely, by a clean-faced / boy. |
| | | A boy of healthy hands, of purring thoughtful eyes, |
| | | a boy who likes to race &and yet likes people too |
| | | &and for their sakes he curbs his youthful joy |
| | | and stops at danger signs, &and too, slows up |
| | | at crossings &and when people are about; |
| | | yet when the road is free he dashes on. |
| | | His eyes are dancing A now B ~ &and his arms are / wings. |
| | | But London is a different city now. |
| | | She shuts her foggy eyes in ecstasy |
| | | A And B and thrills at common things like / tramping feet |
| | | and throbbing engines of unwieldy trucks |
| | | and crackling paper in the cheaper / stores. |
| | | Only strange moon-lit evenings |
| | | with shadows in leafy places |
| | | well-loved Calgary faces. |
| | | The sun in his golden orbit |
| | | is happy with smiling graces |
| | | so then I will not think of |
| | | well-loved Calgary faces. |
| | | then goes &and the frost is on you |
| | | &and you cry with a voice of anguish |
| | | Why did the gods begin it? |
| | | Why is the sunlight on your shining hair |
| | | hurting my eyes as I stand here &and stare? |
| | | Why is the look in your eyes as you sit |
| | | making me weep with the beauty of it? |
| | | Why are A o A ~ your hands that are gentle &and / strong |
| | | music to me – a melodious song? |
| | | Here in this abysmal world |
| | | I catch at new-born thoughts, unfurled |
| | | and place them in a ring. |
| | | I stand surrounded by them |
| | | and I contemplate in turn |
|