And shattered,The atoms of purple.Green dip the leaves,Darker the bark,Longer the shadows.Sheer lines of poplarShimmer with masses of silverAnd down in a garden old with yearsAnd broken walls of ruin and story,Roses rise with red rain-memories.May!In the open worldThe sun comes and finds your face,Remembering all.
A train whirls by, and men and women at tablesAlive with red roses and yellow jonquils,Eat steaks running with brown gravy,Strawberries and cream, eclaires and coffee.The dago shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna,Washes it down with a dipper from the water-boy,And goes back to the second half of a ten-hour day’s workKeeping the road-bed…
They wear long boots, hard boots; they walk off proud; they can’t hear you calling–Look out how you use proud words.
And mark it with signs for its remembrance.It is a river, this language,Once in a thousand yearsBreaking a new courseChanging its way to the ocean.It is mountain effluviaMoving to valleysAnd from nation to nationCrossing borders and mixing.Languages die like rivers.Words wrapped round your tongue todayAnd broken to shape of thoughtBetween your teeth and lips speakingNow…
Yes, this million of young workmen slaughtered one another and never saw their red hands.And oh, it would have been a great job of killing and a new and beautiful thing under the sun if the million knew why they hacked and tore each other to death.The kings are grinning, the Kaiser and the czar—they…
Drips shimmeringOver the garden nights,Death, the gray mocker,Comes and whispers to youAs a beautiful friendWho remembers.Under the summer rosesWhen the flagrant crimsonLurks in the duskOf the wild red leaves,Love, with little hands,Comes and touches youWith a thousand memories,And asks youBeautiful, unanswerable questions.
The tan of the sun will be on your skin,The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,You will pose with a hill-flower grace.You will come, with your slim, expressive arms,A poise of the head no sculptor has caughtAnd nuances spoken with shoulder and neck,Your face in a pass-and-repass of moodsAs many as skies in…
