Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/179

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MEASURE ME, SKY!
Measure me, sky!
Tell me I reach by a song
Nearer the stars:
I have been little so long!

Weigh me, high wind!
What will your wild scales record?
Profit of pain,
Joy by the weight of a word!

Horizon, reach out!
Catch at my hands, stretch me taut,
Rim of the world:
Widen my eyes by a thought!

Sky, be my depth,
Wind, be my width and my height,
World, my heart's span:
Loneliness, wings for my flight!

The MeasureLeonora Speyer


CORTÈGE FOR ROSENBLOOM
Now the wry Rosenbloom is dead
And his finical carriers tread,
On a hundred legs, the tread
Of the dead.
Rosenbloom is dead.

They carry the wizened one
Of the color of horn
To the sullen hill,
Treading a tread
In unison for the dead.

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