CHAPTER I
Blue Squills
How many million Aprils came Before I ever knew How white a
cherry bough could be, A bed of squills, how blue!
And many a dancing April When life is done with me, Will lift the
blue flame of the flower And the white flame of the tree.
Oh burn me with your beauty, then, Oh hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take Even this glistening hour.
O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees, O sunlit white and blue,
Wound me, that I, through endless sleep, May bear the scar of you.
Stars
Alone in the night On a dark hill With pines around me Spicy and
still,
And a heaven full of stars Over my head, White and topaz And
misty red;
Myriads with beating Hearts of fire That aeons Cannot vex or tire;
Up the dome of heaven Like a great hill, I watch them marching
Stately and still,
And I know that I Am honored to be Witness Of so much majesty.