Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/135
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THE SCHOOL BOY READS HIS ILIAD
The sounding battles leave him nodding still:
The din of javelins at the distant wall
Is far too faint to wake that weary will
That all but sleeps for cities where they fall.
He cares not if this Helen's face were fair,
Nor if the thousand ships shall go or stay;
In vain the rumbling chariots throng the air
With sounds the centuries shall not hush away.
The din of javelins at the distant wall
Is far too faint to wake that weary will
That all but sleeps for cities where they fall.
He cares not if this Helen's face were fair,
Nor if the thousand ships shall go or stay;
In vain the rumbling chariots throng the air
With sounds the centuries shall not hush away.
Beyond the window where the Spring is new,
Are marbles in a square, and tops again,
And floating voices tell him what they do,
Luring his thought from these long-warring men,—
And though the camp be visited with Gods,
He dreams of marbles and of tops, and nods.
Are marbles in a square, and tops again,
And floating voices tell him what they do,
Luring his thought from these long-warring men,—
And though the camp be visited with Gods,
He dreams of marbles and of tops, and nods.
Contemporary VerseDavid Morton
ACQUAINTANCE
All that we know of April is her way
Of coming on the world through gentle springs,
Turning the hedge a whitening line of spray,
Staining the grass with shivered, golden things.
She has a way of rain against the sun,
Of moonlit orchards, ghostly white and still,
And the slow, silver coming, one by one,
Of burning stars above a purple hill.
Of coming on the world through gentle springs,
Turning the hedge a whitening line of spray,
Staining the grass with shivered, golden things.
She has a way of rain against the sun,
Of moonlit orchards, ghostly white and still,
And the slow, silver coming, one by one,
Of burning stars above a purple hill.
And this is all we know of such as she,
These shining names she leaves for us to call:
The whitening hedge, the showery apple tree,
And golden jonquils gathering by a wall. . . .
All that we know of April is her way,
And these bright legends we have learned to say.
These shining names she leaves for us to call:
The whitening hedge, the showery apple tree,
And golden jonquils gathering by a wall. . . .
All that we know of April is her way,
And these bright legends we have learned to say.
The NationDavid Morton
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