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Words: 12372 in 6 pages
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anding, Gaze on my vision splendid and most dear, When lo! a chimney ... Lo! on my dreams the soot drifts dry and sere. Lo! all my flowers wilt in a reek of beer. On the drab flags squat children dusty-eyed, Cursed at by blousy women with dank hair. Just down the street there sprawls a suicide.
SLUM EVENING
The flirting adolescents stand And hush their tingling turbid vows. For softly on their foolish brows The evening lays a sober hand.
Even the butcher, he who shares The corner-shop with "Boots and Shoes," Although he has no time to lose, Delays to light the naphtha flares.
A bleary woman down the road With a large twin on either arm, Her wits are stolen by the charm, She quite forgets her puling load.
I know not in what twilight stream She bathes her dropsy-swollen feet, But they were fair as dawn and fleet, In the dead girlhood of her dream.
FIRES OF CHANGE
Think you that Athens and Jerusalem Rot in the places where they builded them? This is the Temple, this the Parthenon The priests of old days laid their hands upon? No more a stream sends the same waters twice Along its channels to sea-sacrifice. Not God Himself shall bid Time stand to lock The midmost atom in the mightiest rock. Still the most secret atom shall be hurled Into the riotous wind-ways of the world. Still, the most ancient town, up wrenched, shall float Freer than flame and light as a bird's note. Still shall the crumbling globe itself be spun Into fresh ethers conquered by the sun.
So, even so, my soul shall wear no more The countless shapes my soul endued of yore. Yea, the stout granite of my soul shall range Molten across the blasting fires of change. Not this am I you saw an hour ago. Me fluid as thought your science shall not know. Hourly my conquering spirit digs and delves A grave to hold a hundred slaughtered selves. Hourly through cowering moons and stellar dins, I stride across buried virtues and slain sins.
POETRY
A star that was mute Was heard to sing. A flower took wing, A bird took root.
The Right is a Wrong, The Wrong is a Right. I fought with the Night, I sang you a song.
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