"Long ages since he mixed the clay, Whose sense of symmetry was such, The labor of a single day Immortal grew beneath his touch. "For dreaming while his fingers went "Her loveliness to me he gave Who gave unto herself his heart, And hearing from thy lips this tale But in thy form divinely wrought HAMLIN GARLAND DO YOU FEAR THE WIND? Do you fear the force of the wind, Go face them and fight them, Be savage again. Go hungry and cold like the wolf, Go wade like the crane; The palms of your hands will thicken, The skin of your cheek will tan, You'll grow ragged and weary and swarthy, But you'll walk like a man! IN THE GRASS O to lie in long grasses! 5 10 O to dream of the plain! 15 Where the west wind sings as it passes A weird and unceasing refrain; Where the rank grass wallows and tosses, And the plains' ring dazzles the eye; To watch the gay gulls as they flutter 20 25 5 10 And gnats in the lee of the thickets To the harsh, shrill creak of the crickets, O far-off plains of my west land! 15 20 CLINTON SCOLLARD DUSK Her feet along the dewy hills Are lighter than blown thistledown; Upon her violet crown With her soft touch of mothering, How soothing to the sense she seems! The quiet gift of dreams. LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY THE WILD RIDE I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses, All night, from their stalls, the importunate tramping and 5 neighing. Let cowards and laggards fall back! but alert to the saddle, Straight, grim, and abreast, go the weatherworn, galloping legion, With a stirrup-cup each to the lily of women that loves him. The trail is through dolor and dread, over crags and morasses; 10 There are shapes by the way, there are things that 15 appal or entice us: What odds? We are knights, and our souls are but bent on the riding. I hear in my heart, I hear in its ominous pulses, All day, on the road, the hoofs of invisible horses; All night, from their stalls, the importunate tramping and neighing. We spur to a land of no name, outracing the stormwind; We leap to the infinite dark, like the sparks from the anvil. Thou leadest, O God! All's well with Thy troopers that follow. 20 25 SANCTUARY High above hate I dwell: O storms! farewell. Though at my sill your daggered thunders play, 5 Lawless and loud to-morrow as to-day, To me they sound more small Than a young fay's footfall; Soft and far-sunken, forty fathoms low In Long Ago, 10 And winnowed into silence on that wind Which takes wars like a dust, and leaves but love behind. Hither Felicity Doth climb up to me, 15 And bank me in with turf and marjoram Such as bees lip, or the new-weaned lamb; And bluets thick beneath; One grosbeak, too, mid apple-buds a guest 20 With bud-red breast, Is singing, singing! All the hells that rage 25 ERNEST MCGAFFEY "MARK!" The heavy mists have crept away, Heavily swims the sun, And dim in mystic cloudlands gray |