And mad exotic flowers
In Illinois.
Where ragged ditches ran
Now springs of Heaven began
Celestial drink for man
In Illinois.
There stood beside the town
Beneath its incense-crown
An angel and a clown
In Illinois.
He was as Clowns are:
She was snow and star
With eyes that looked afar
In Illinois.
I asked, ‘How came this place
Of antique Asian grace
Amid our callow race
In Illinois?’
Said Clown and Angel fair:
‘By laughter and by prayer,
By casting off all care
In Illinois.’
God and the angels, and the gleaming saintsHad journeyed out into the stars to die.They had gone forth to win far citizens,Bought at great price, bring happiness for all:By such a harvest make a holier townAnd put new life within old Zion’s wall.Each chose a far-off planet for his home,Speaking of love and mercy, truth…
And many orange-trees grew thereIn sand as white as glass.The curving, wide wall-borderWas marble, like the snow.I walked that wall a fairy-princeAnd, pacing quaint and slow,Beside me were my pages,Two giant, friendly birds.Half swan they were, half peacock.They spake in courtier-words.Their inner wings a charriot,Their outer wings for flight,They lifted me from dreamland.We bade those…
And if no Hindu he can get,The lion-family is upset.He cuffs his wife and bites her earsTill she is nearly moved to tears.Then some explorer finds the denAnd all is family peace again.
We shovel in our blackest griefs,Upon that grate are castOur aching burdens, loves and fearsAnd underneath them waitPaper and tar and pitch and pineCalled strife and blood and hate.Out of it all there comes a flame,A splendid widening light.Sorrow is turned to mysteryAnd Death into delight.
He sits upon his hill and criesFor fear that I will bite.The sun’s a broncho. He’s afraidLike every other thing,And trembles, morning, noon and night,Lest I should spring, and sting.
‘Among the standard poetsAnd brouchures without end,And noble prints of old Japan,How empty they would seem,By that encyclopaediaOf whim and glittering dream.’
