Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/42
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
Yet there must be something left to say
Of flowers like these!
Adventurers,
They pushed their way
Through dewy tunnels of the June night . . . . . .
Now they confer . . . . . .
A little tremulous . . . . . .
Dazzled by the yellow sea-beach of morning . . . . . .
Of flowers like these!
Adventurers,
They pushed their way
Through dewy tunnels of the June night . . . . . .
Now they confer . . . . . .
A little tremulous . . . . . .
Dazzled by the yellow sea-beach of morning . . . . . .
If Herrick would tiptoe back . . . . . .
If Blake were to look this way . . . . . .
Ledwidge, even!
If Blake were to look this way . . . . . .
Ledwidge, even!
Contemporary VerseGrace Hazard Conkling
PHAEDRA REMEMBERS CRETE
Think, O my soul,
of the red sands of Crete;
think of the earth, the heat
burnt fissure like the great
backs of the temple serpents;
think of the world you knew;
as the tide crept, the land
burned with a lizard-blue
where the dark sea met the sand.
of the red sands of Crete;
think of the earth, the heat
burnt fissure like the great
backs of the temple serpents;
think of the world you knew;
as the tide crept, the land
burned with a lizard-blue
where the dark sea met the sand.
Think, O my soul—
what power has struck you blind—
is there no desert root, no forest-berry,
pine-pitch or knot of fir
known that can help the soul
caught in a force, a power,
passionless, not its own?
what power has struck you blind—
is there no desert root, no forest-berry,
pine-pitch or knot of fir
known that can help the soul
caught in a force, a power,
passionless, not its own?
27