Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/201
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EVANESCENCE
Slowly I pass among the blowing flowers
Catching my breath at their beauty as I go;
Familiar sweetness drifts across the hours,
Keen, lovely sweetness intimate as woe.
Yet by tomorrow, all the roses blown
Will be a sea of crimson on the grass,
And the naked trees will shudder at the moan
Of glowing winds that wake them as they pass.
In such wise love will vanish as the night;
Each word of joy that you have sung to me
The years will silence with their dark delight
And the wild soaring after ecstasy
Will be a lyric bird that dares the sky
Only to fall to earth when storms beat by.
Catching my breath at their beauty as I go;
Familiar sweetness drifts across the hours,
Keen, lovely sweetness intimate as woe.
Yet by tomorrow, all the roses blown
Will be a sea of crimson on the grass,
And the naked trees will shudder at the moan
Of glowing winds that wake them as they pass.
In such wise love will vanish as the night;
Each word of joy that you have sung to me
The years will silence with their dark delight
And the wild soaring after ecstasy
Will be a lyric bird that dares the sky
Only to fall to earth when storms beat by.
The PaganHarold Vinal
SONNET
I have touched hands with peace and loveliness,
When the first breath of May crept through the trees;
Watched lovely flowers tremble in the breeze—
I cannot say I have been comfortless.
Often the nights have whispered words to me;
With wonder I have watched a new day break,
Shaking its veils across a windy lake—
The wind that stirred them, brought me ecstasy.
When the first breath of May crept through the trees;
Watched lovely flowers tremble in the breeze—
I cannot say I have been comfortless.
Often the nights have whispered words to me;
With wonder I have watched a new day break,
Shaking its veils across a windy lake—
The wind that stirred them, brought me ecstasy.
My heart can know no pain while beauty weaves
Quaint patterns in the corridors of thought,
Patterns of curving cloud and waving leaves;
All the indifference that time has wrought
Will softly pass, when I behold afar—
The lovely beauty of an evening star.
Quaint patterns in the corridors of thought,
Patterns of curving cloud and waving leaves;
All the indifference that time has wrought
Will softly pass, when I behold afar—
The lovely beauty of an evening star.
The Granite MonthlyHarold Vinal
186