Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/188
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Pushing back the granite fright
Men sing morning and sing night.
Men sing morning and sing night.
Only singing matters now
With stark birds on every bough.
With stark birds on every bough.
Keeping back the loneliness
Men will swagger and caress,
And to dodge the fear of snow
Sing high and sing low.
Men will swagger and caress,
And to dodge the fear of snow
Sing high and sing low.
Caroling for morning, caroling for noon,
Stiff tasks done with a tiny tune,
And never a note
In timbre any bigger than the tone of a flute,
Little sounds only coming in the throat,
And the big sounds mute.
Stiff tasks done with a tiny tune,
And never a note
In timbre any bigger than the tone of a flute,
Little sounds only coming in the throat,
And the big sounds mute.
Thinner, rarer and more shrill,
As silence whitens on the hill,
Whistling in daylight to keep up nerve,
While blue whiteness comes up the curve.
As silence whitens on the hill,
Whistling in daylight to keep up nerve,
While blue whiteness comes up the curve.
Bravado of sparse breath
Blown straight at death,
Voices in silences, swooping like birds,
Voices and caroling
Warm words. Flung at the sky's stiff stare
Into the brittle air
A laugh like a torch's flare. . . .
Blown straight at death,
Voices in silences, swooping like birds,
Voices and caroling
Warm words. Flung at the sky's stiff stare
Into the brittle air
A laugh like a torch's flare. . . .
Desperate gaiety and games
And pleasantries for comfort like wan flames,
Will be their only way,
For in the midst of play—
Pause—a long sway,
Something faltering underneath,
The brief
And pleasantries for comfort like wan flames,
Will be their only way,
For in the midst of play—
Pause—a long sway,
Something faltering underneath,
The brief
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