Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/203

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
His cloud-streaked hair across my bosom slips
And down he broods in storm.
Passion is freed, he rages in desire,
His arms press lightning from me and I lie
Formless and loose about him, higher, higher,
He lashes me and drops me from the sky
To prostrate lands,
And there beside me stretches in the sands
While strange dew shines against his hair
And all hours long the paled moon creeps by
To watch us lying there.

My mind is dark, yet smoother is my breast
Than any other woman's,—I must rest,
Within these waters pain may slip from me,
My mind is dark with shadows of a sea.

The MeasureEda Lou Walton


GOSPEL WITH BANJO AND CHORUS
Dear ones, I have gambled, I have rolled the bones.
It's the truth, praise God!
Hell was open, waiting with its howls and moans.
There you are, praise God!
Heaven's gates were opening, up steps the Lamb,
"Sister, aren't you sick of sin?" "Yes," I said, "I am.
And it's the truth, praise God!
Sinner, aren't you going there, joining our procession—
Everybody holy, making loud profession?
And there you are, praise God!

Dear ones, I have wallowed belly-deep in sin.
It's the truth, praise God!
I'd looked into the puddle, devil shoved me in.
There you are, praise God!

188