HE comes, the happy warrior,
The wind has blown him on!
He is great and terrible and sweet,
From flaming hair to rapid feet.
His presence strides the earth full-armed, complete.
Oh, underneath his helmet-rim
The crowded lilies lie.
From some Elysian feast he comes,
Struck with the passion of...
I Am not what I was yesterday,
God knows my name.
I am made in a smooth and beautiful way,
And full of flame.
The color of corn are my pretty wings,
My flower is blue.
I kiss its topmost pearl, it swings
And I swing too.
I dance above the tawny grass
In the sunny air,
So tantalized to have...
MY love leads the white bulls to sacrifice.
He is white, and he leans against their folded necks.
Blue is the sky behind them, and the dust from the highway yellows his ivory limbs.
He leans and moves, restraining, yet drawn on by tossing heads.
He feels the festal music; rapid and strong are his arms and breast;
Yet from his waist beneath, loose and...
In the night
Gray, heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God alone.
“O Master, that movest the wind with a finger,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Grant that we may run swiftly across the world
To huddle in worship at Thy feet.”
In the morning
A noise of men at work came the clear blue...
Once I knew a fine song,
—It is true, believe me,—
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! they all flew away.
I cried, “Come back, Little Thoughts!”
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.
Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of sin.
Behold, the grave of a wicked man,
And near it, a stern spirit.
There came a drooping maid with violets,
But the spirit grasped her arm.
“No flowers for him,” he said.
The maid wept:
“Ah, I loved him.”
But the spirit, grim and frowning:
No flowers for him.”
Now, this is it—
If the spirit was just,
Why...
The Wayfarer,
Perceiving the pathway to truth,
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
“Ha,” he said,
“I see that none has passed here
In a long time.”
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
“Well,” he mumbled at last,
“Doubtless there are other roads.”
A Youth in apparel that glittered
Went to walk in a grim forest.
There he met an assassin
Attired all in garb of old days;
He, scowling through the thickets,
And dagger poised quivering,
Rushed upon the youth.
“Sir,” said this latter,
“I am enchanted, believe me.
To die thus,
In this mediæval fashion,
...
Once I saw mountains angry,
And ranged in battle-front.
Against them stood a little man;
Ay, he was no bigger than my finger.
I laughed, and spoke to one near me,
“Will he prevail?”
“Surely,” replied this other;
“His grandfathers beat them many times.”
Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers,—
At least, for the little...
