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Be with them, God! and pity also me|% |
Not for the hungry has my spirit care|% |
Whether their bodies shall be filled or no|% |
With whom the world her bounty will not share|% |
Wherefore they move on feeble feet and slow|% |
Feeling dear Death within their bodies grow|% |
Thou knowest these at pain beyond confess|% |
For sorrow never may Thy ears transgress|% |
Though lips be locked and pain shall hold the key|% |
But are there Souls whom hunger doth oppress|% |
Be with them, God! and pity also me|% |
Not for the homeless do I ask, where e’er|% |
The lights of Hell their haunting faces show|% |
The legion undesired anywhere|% |
Whose hearts Love shall not build in,—who shall sow|% |
And reap such loneliness as murder’s woe|% |
Thy gracious mouth to these shall acquiesce|% |
Which is so very wonderful to bless|% |
The plundered heart with joy held long in fee|% |
But are there Souls that know not Love’s caress|% |
Be with them God! and pity also me|% |
Envoi|% |
Father, for this we thank Thee without cesse|% |
Death is the body’s birthright, as I guess|% |
But are there Souls that walk in hopelessness|% |
Be with them God! and pity also me|% |
When my life his pillar has raised to heaven|% |
When my soul has bleeded and builded wonders|% |
When my love of earth has begot fair poems|% |
Let me not linger|% |
Ere my day be troubled of coming darkness|% |
While the huge whole sky is elate with glory|% |
Let me rise, and making my salutation|% |
Stride into sunset|% |
I dreamed I was among the conquerors|% |
Among those shadows, wonderfully tall|% |
Which splendidly inhabit the hymned hall|% |
Whereof is “Fame” writ on its glorious doors|% |
Cloaked in green thunder are the sudden shores|% |
Guarding the lintel’s gold, whence of the wall|% |
Leaps the white echo; and within, the fall|% |
Is heard of the eternal feet of wars|% |
Here, at high ease, saw I those purple lords|% |
Sipping the wine of unforgetfulness|% |
Upon thrones intimate with all the skies|% |
Roland, and Richard, ’mid the shining press|% |
Leonidas, belted with living swords|% |
And Albert, with the lions in his eyes|% |
I care not greatly|% |
Should the world remember me|% |
In some tomorrow|% |
There is a journey|% |
And who is for the long road|% |
Loves not to linger|% |
For him the night calls|% |
Out of the dawn and sunset|% |
Who has made poems|% |
Oh thou that liftest up thy hands in prayer|% |
Robed in the sudden ruin of glad homes|% |
And trampled fields which from green dreaming woke|% |
To bring forth ruin and the fruit of death|% |
Thou pitiful, we turn our hearts to thee|% |
Oh thou that mournest thy heroic dead|% |
Fallen in youth and promise gloriously|% |
In the deep meadows of their motherland|% |
Turning the silver blossoms into gold|% |
The valor of thy children comfort thee|% |
Oh thou that bowest thy ecstatic face|% |
Thy perfect sorrows are the world’s to keep|% |
Wherefore unto thy knees come we with prayer|% |
Mother heroic, mother glorious|% |
Beholding in thy eyes immortal tears|% |
my girl’s tall with hard long eyes |% as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping |% silence on her dress,good for sleeping |% is her long hard body filled with surprise |% like a white shocking wire,when she smiles |% a hard long smile it sometimes makes |% gaily go clean through me tickling aches |% and the weak noise of her eyes easily files |% my impatience to an edge—my girl’s tall |% and taut,with thin legs just like a vine |% that’s spent all of its life on a garden-wall |% and is going to die. When we grimly go to bed |% with these legs she begins to heave and twine |% about me,and to kiss my face and head |% |
27|% |
W|% |
., JR|% |
In Memory of ‘“‘A House of Pomegranates”|% |
Speak to me friend! Or is the world so wide|% |
That souls may easily forget their speech|% |
And the strong love that binds us each to each|% |
Who have stood together watching God’s white tide|% |
Pouring, and those bright shapes of dreams which ride|% |
Through darkness; we who have walked the silent beach|% |
Strown with strange wonders out of ocean’s reach|% |
Which the next flood in her great heart shall hide|% |
Do not forget me, though the sands should fall|% |
And many things be swept away in deep|% |
And a new vision uttered to the shore,—|% |
If after days bespeak me not at all|% |
Nor other’s praise awake my song from sleep|% |
Nor Poetry remember, anymore|% |
Over silent waters|% |
day descending|% |
night ascending|% |
floods the gentle glory of the sunset|% |
Ina golden greeting|% |
splendidly to westward|% |
as pale twilight|% |
trem-|% |
bles|% |
Subsets and Splits