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Where then was happiness

Is now distress;

The laughter stilled;

For when she left

Youth followed her…

We stay bereft。





So all our golden joy

For what she brings

Must carry gray alloy:

The sorrow that she can not lay;

The mysery that she can not stay…

While all the gladsome songs she sings

Must bear for undertones

Old sighs and echoed moans。



As they who go away

In flush of youth

May come quite worn and gray

And bringing naught but ruth…

So; when the strife shall cease;

And when she comes at last;

When all the armies vast

Shall at her feet

Kneel down to greet

Thrice welcome Peace;

This world will be so changed

(So many dear ones dead;

So many friends estranged;

So many blessings fled;

So many wonted ways forever barred;

So many coming days forever marred)

That then

She truly comes not back again

She; the Peace we knew。



Yet how we long for her!

How ardently we yearn

For her return!



SYLVESTER BAXTER





TWO MOODS FROM THE HILL



I。



YOUTH



I LOVE to watch the world from here; for all

The numberless living portraits that are drawn

Upon the mind。  Far over is the sea;

Fronting the sand; a few great yellow dunes;

A salt marsh stumbling after; rank and green;

With brackish gullies wandering in between;

All this from the hill。

And more: a clump of dwarfed and twisted cedars;

Sentinels over the marsh; and bright with the sun

A field of daises wandering in the wind

As though a hidden serpent glided through;

A broken wall; a new…plowed field; and then

The dusty road and the abodes of men

Surrounding the hill。

How small the enclosure is wherein there lives

Each phase and passion of life; the distant sail

Dips in the limpid bosom of the sea;

》From that far place to where in state the turf

Raises a throne for me upon the hill;

Each little love and lust of a living thing

Can thus be compassed in a rainbow ring

And seen from the hill。



II。

AGE



Why did I build my cottage on a hill

Facing the sea?



Why did I plan each terraced lawn to slope

Down to the deep blue billowy breast of hope;

Surging and sweeping;

laughing and leaping;

Tumbling its garments of foam upon the shore;

Rustling the sands that know my step no more;

I should have found a valley; deep and still;

To shelter me。



There flows the river; and it seems asleep

So far away;

Yet I remember whip of wave and roar

Of wind that rose and smote against the oar;

Smote and retreated;

Proud but defeated;

While I rejoiced and rowed into the brine;

Drawing on wet and heavy …straining line

The great cod quivering from the deep

As counterplay。



What is the solace of these hills and vales

That rise and fall?

What is there glorious in the greenwood glen;

Or twittering thrush or wing of darting wren?

Give me the gusty;

Raucous and rusty

Call of the sea gull in the echoing sky;

The wild shriek of the winds that cannot die;

Give me the life that follows the bending sails;

Or none at all!



ERNEST BENSHIMOL





A BANQUET

ONE MEMORY FROM SOCRATES



AFTER the song the love; and after the love the play;

Flute girl and pretty boy blowing

Bubbles of sparkling

Wine into darkling

Beards of a former austerity; stern even now; but

Fast growing

Foolish; with less of a stately

Reserve that held them sedately。

Oh Zeus; what a sight! With the wine dripping off it;

The grin of an ass on a bald…pated prophet。



After the feast the night; and after the night the day;

Fool and philosopher stirring

With the day dawning;

Stretching and yawning;

While in each wine…throbbing; desolated brain is the

Wheeling and whirring

Of thousands of bats; that the slaking

Of throats will not hinder from aching;

No wine for the brow that is beating to bursting;

But water at morning is quench for the thirsting!



ERNEST BENSHIMOL





SONG



OUT of one heart the birds and I together;

Earth hushed in twilight;

Low through the live…oaks hung heavy with silver;

Gemmed with the sky…light;

Under the great wet star

Shaking with light; we jar

Lute…voiced the silence with intervaled music。



While under the margined world the slow sun

lingers;

Flaming earth's portal;

Over the lilac dusk spreads his great fingers…

Earth is immortal!

While the frail beauty dies。

Dream in the dreamer's eyes;

All the good gladness turns praise for the singers。



Hark; 'tis the breath of life!  Hush! and I need it;

Northern; gigantic;…

Questing the silences; herding the sudden foam

Down the Atlantic;

Leaves from the autumn's store

Shrill at my desert door;

They and I out of one heart that is grieving。



GEORGE CABOT LODGE





THE WORLDS



I SAW an idler on a summer day

Piping with Iris by a dancing brook;

And all his world was rife with Pleasures gay;

And languid Follies smiled from every nook。



I saw an artist in a world of dreams;

His rainbow rising from his radiant task;

To throw its magic prism beams

O'er Fancy's changeful masque and counter…

masque。



I saw Toilstooping underneath a world

Whereon his foster…brothers lighter tread;

His skyward pinions ever closer furled

Before the grim necessity of bread!





I saw a sinner working hard to be

Worthy his death…wage from the mint of time;

I saw a sailor; unto whom the sea

Was hearth and hope and love and wedding…

chime。



I saw a mother living in her child

I saw a saint among his fellow men

Brave soldiery before my eyes defiled

And solemn…hearted scholarsSudden then



I cried: 〃The stars are no less neighborly

In their ethereal remoteness swung;

Than these near human orbits wherein we

Live out our lives and speak our chosen tongue!





〃Love seek through allless there be one

Least soul unlit within the night

And over all; the selfsame sun

Give each creation light!〃



MARTHA GILBERT DICKINSON BIANCHI





THE RIOT



YOU may think my life is quiet。

I find it full of change;

An ever…varied diet;

As piquant as 'tis strange。



Wild thoughts are always flying;

Like sparks across my brain;

Now flashing out; now dying;

To kindle soon again。



Fine fancies set me thrilling;

And subtle monsters creep

Before my sight unwilling:

They even haunt my sleep。



One broad; perpetual riot

Enfolds me night and day。

You think my life is quiet?

You don't know what you say。



GAMALIEL BRADFORD







HUNGER



I'VE been a hopeless sinner; but I understand a

saint;

Their bend of weary knees and their con…

tortions long and faint;

And the endless pricks of conscience; like a hundred

thousand pins;

A real perpetual penance for imaginary sins。



I love to wander widely; but I understand a cell;

Where you tell and tell your beads because you've

nothing else to tell;

Where the crimson joy of flesh; with all its wild

fantastic tricks;

Is forgotten in the blinding glory of the crucifix。



I cannot speak for others; but my inmost soul is

torn

With a battle of desires making all my life forlorn。

There are moments when I would untread the paths

that I have trod。

I'm a haunter of the devil; but I hunger after God。



GAMALIEL BRADFORD





EXIT GOD



Of old our father's God was real;

Something they almost saw;

Which kept them to a stern ideal

And scourged them into awe。



They walked the narrow path of right

Most vigilantly well;

Because they feared eternal night

And boiling depths of Hell。



Now Hell has wholly boiled away

And God become a shade。

There is no place for him to stay

In all the world He made。



The followers of William James

Still let the Lord exist;

And call Him by imposing names;

A venerable list。

But nerve and muscle only count;

Gray matter of the brain;

And an astonishing amount

Of inconvenient pain。



I sometimes wish that God were back

In this dark world and wide;

For though sonic virtues He might lack;

He had his pleasant side。



GAMALIEL BRADFORD





ROUSSEAU



THAT odd; fantastic ass; Rousseau;

Declared himself unique。

How men persist in doing so;

Puzzles me more than Greek。



The sins that tarnish whore and thief

Beset me every day。

My most ethereal belief

Inhabits common clay。



GAMALIEL BRADFORD





JOHN MASEFIELD



I



MASEFIELD (HIMSELF)



GOD said; and frowned; as He looked on

Shropshire clay:

〃Alone; 'twont do; composite; would I make

This man…child rare; 'twere well; methinks; to take

A handful from the Stratford tomb; and weigh

A few of Shelley's ashes; Bunyan may

Contribute; too; and; for my sweet Son's sake;

I'll visit Avalon; then; let me slake

The whole with Wyclif…water from the Bay。



A sailor; he!  Too godly; though; I fear;

Offset it with tobacco!  Next; I'll find

Hedge…roses; star…dust; and a va

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