Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/132
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
Just so of spirits, Beauty's silver light
Limns with a purer ray, and tenderer too:
Men's clumsy gestures, to unearthly sight,
Surpass the shapes they show by human view.
Limns with a purer ray, and tenderer too:
Men's clumsy gestures, to unearthly sight,
Surpass the shapes they show by human view.
On this brave world, where few such meteors fell,
Her youngest son, to save us, Beauty flung. -
He suffered and descended into hell—
And comforts still the ardent and the young.
Her youngest son, to save us, Beauty flung. -
He suffered and descended into hell—
And comforts still the ardent and the young.
Drunken of moonlight, dazed by draughts of sky,
Dizzy with stars, his mortal fever ran:
His utterance a moon-enchanted cry
Not free from folly—for he too was man.
Dizzy with stars, his mortal fever ran:
His utterance a moon-enchanted cry
Not free from folly—for he too was man.
And now and here, a hundred years away,
Where topless towers shadow golden streets,
The young men sit, nooked in a cheap café,
Perfectly happy. . . talking about Keats.
Where topless towers shadow golden streets,
The young men sit, nooked in a cheap café,
Perfectly happy. . . talking about Keats.
The BookmanChristopher Morley
THE TAVERN OF THE FOOLS
I knew of an honest cleanly inn where men much profit had,
And some came in from the roaring town, and some from the roaring seas;
They talked in the open way of those who are not too proud to be sad,
They sat in a ruddy ingle, at night, and took their ease.
For terrible is the sunlight that makes men fear to be dead.
But comforting is the well-swept hearth that flickers gold and gules,
And there men spoke withouten shame, and curious words were said—
Ungoaded by a clock they sat, in the Tavern of the Fools.
And some came in from the roaring town, and some from the roaring seas;
They talked in the open way of those who are not too proud to be sad,
They sat in a ruddy ingle, at night, and took their ease.
For terrible is the sunlight that makes men fear to be dead.
But comforting is the well-swept hearth that flickers gold and gules,
And there men spoke withouten shame, and curious words were said—
Ungoaded by a clock they sat, in the Tavern of the Fools.
117