/. <^3 Book £iSSl_ GoipghtN? COEVBICIIT DEPOSm s TUFF An Anthology of Verse Boston The Four Seas Company 1919 Copyright, 1919, by The Four Seas Company ^^^;^^ Boston. Mass., U. S. A. Tlie Four Seas Press AUG -7 .^i3 ©C:.A529 518 STUFF Page E. F. J. PAD . 9 ALONE 10 ENTRE NOUS II MECHANTE . . 12 IF I COULD • . . . 13 A. L. J. MONKEY SPEAKS I4 FRUSTRA 15 THE SPIDER 16 TEMPLE WOMEN I7 G. K. TIME TELLS . . . 18 I SEE MOTION 19 BETWEEN . 20 AN OLD SHIELD 21 STUFF Page R. C P. FRUIT ^^ MURRE OF THE FARALLONES 24 THE HUSBAND ... ^S THE JOKE 26 I ASK YOU 27 M. I. B. THE BEACH 28 SMOKE, PUFF 29 OWN? 30 STREET CORNER ON BROADWAY 3^ M. T. B. BRONZE BUDDHA 3^ MOMENT ENCHANTE 33 RACE 34 YOU don't like . . . ? 35 AT SIX 3^ w. w. MERCURY 37 SUPPER 3° FOG 39 DANCE OF THE SAND SPRITE 4^ ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. C. PAD We, snuggling sit quite close Encircled by tenuous moonlight Saturated with the dews of dusk. We chant in a blinky way, love lorn frogs on A lily pad. [9] ALONE On the green cobweb-cracked window shade Wrinkled and worn from shielding many mes Two sunbeams flaunt and twirl themselves. They intoxicate, They beckon : "Come out, that you too may dance With one other, shimmery and warm!" Then all is blurred — I am alone Behind the wrinkled window shade With another lost me. [lO] ENTRE NOUS Do I love? Am I loved? Memories are as rose jars Some lingeringly sweet, Others spicy, pungent Yet — all — haunting. I hug them to myself. I gaze into the moon's rays I whirl wrapping myself, cuddling in them. I feel warm palms caressing, holding my shoulders. Dazed — enthralled — I nestle in fragrance I do love. I am loved. ["] MECHANTE She scampers off To the dusty green walled room, All cobwebs and shadows, Her little fat fingers clutch Those red round cherries. Gleefully, breathlessly She runs to her little red chair And her smiling faced joujou doll, Standing like a gendarme Beside the old fireplace Whose hollow is filled With a big black kettle. Three funny horns Sticking out from its roundness. Holding tight to the arm of her chair She tries to sit down — But her eyes are big and round with fear She gazes at her joujou doll, He is now an ugly, bad looking thing, So strange and fierce — And his eyes say: "Where did you get those cherries?" [12: IF I COULD If I could I would make your eyeballs into buttons And button your eyelids down. I would change your spots into chunks of mud and bat them at you. I would put two curly-fluffy feathers into your inquisitive wet nose. I would change your tail into a cannon cracker. If I could I wouldn't! [13] 4 MONKEY SPEAKS I watch my brother, man, With philosophic despair — Has he forgot so soon the time When we were Gods in India? Alas for the future of my race ! Man has no tail. Truly all is decadence! 14] FRUSTRA ! Four poUywogs cavorting in a glass, Spurring the algae with vibrant tails, Staring ruby-eyed at nothingness ; Four embryo frogs, with silent brains, Basking about a sunbeam in a bowl. Aeons have passed since I, While turning hand-springs in a pool — Was caught and gobbled by a duck. Swallowed entire Before I reached my froghood. This time Shall I complete my. froghood, once denied? Or,- Must I again be gulped To serve a Duck-God's idle feast? [15] THE SPIDER Endlessly, tirelessly. Spinning, twirling. He makes his web. His shiny belly Gleams and quivers; His bright eyes flash. Then as if weary He ravels his spinning And hangs from his thread Motionless — A mock suicide. i6] TEMPLE WOMEN At dusk through the sacred gardens, Come bands of Temple Women Wearing anklets of gold And armlets of silver, They bend and sway in the dance, naked, Whiter than lilies. Their voices, shrill — flutelike Summon the worshippers. With beautiful lips and breasts They greet the Gods in the Temples: They are cups of wine. Vessels that bear its fragrance. They are the cups of the Gods Who take them and drain them and break them! 17] TIME TELLS Which matters most eleven ? twelve ? one? The clock strikes — twelve. [i8] I see motion all about me: Through the elements of nature men animals inanimate things. The cause . . . ? Before I move I think. [19] BETWEEN — Stars and electric lights Both twinkle. Stars above Lights below — Sometimes stars, Sometimes lights, One only — Which? [20] An old shield lies useless and rejected, The home of dust and spider-webs, Dull it is, each moment its dullness thickens. An old woman sits useless and rejected. The abode of wicked thoughts, Furrowed she is, each moment the furrows deepen. I can see — A polished shield A tilled old woman. Dust, spider-webs and wicked thoughts are only tenants. I can polish the shield — The old woman must till herself. [21] FRUIT [A Protest] THE FARMER It bears no fruit, Therefore the tree is useless ; Cut it down. THE LITTLE BOY But, Gee, Pa, It's got grand limbs to climb! THE LITTLE GIRL It's dark and cool under the leaves; I like to play dolls there When it's hot. THE WIFE I've got kinda used to it Leanin' over the door, Sorta protectin' like. THE DAUGHTER I love the pink of the apple blossoms in the spring, And the petals falling on the sharp new grass. THE GRANDFATHER I like to see the leaves a fallin' In the autumn, too, And I like the feel of the old gray bark. [22] THE GRANDMOTpER I love to watch the birds \ A nestin' there. And in the winter When the limbs are bare They cast queer shadows On the snow. THE STRANGER All this, and useless? THE FARMER The tree is useless Because it bears no fruit : Cut it down. [23] MURRE OF THE FARALLONES Murre, Mother Murre, Guarding your treasure Seems but a pleasure ! Yet the rock is grim, Rough its splintered rim, Close below the wild seas beat, Overhead the gray clouds meet; Here you laid your egg of brown and green Like the sea beneath and the rock between ; Proudly you sit with body erect and head held high. Nature's elements thoughtlessly, carelessly, you defy; Water, earth and air have been to you things not understood, Now, with the same nonchalance, you have accepted motherhood. [24] THE HUSBAND When the years are few, Holding her As the child A flower; — Hot, moist fingers Grasping the stem Tightly Close to the blossom. When the years are many. Holding her As the artist A flower; — Delicate finger tips Touching the stem Lightly Far from the blossom. [25] THE JOKE In the Court of the World ■ I am the Clown, the Fool. The Courtiers Take Life seriously. All of it but Love — That is the Great Joke. I, the Fool, Take Life lightly, All of it but Love — That is the Great Reality: Therefore am I Chief Jester to His Majesty, Mankind. [26] I ask you ! What would they think, The charlatan verse-cadgers Of other ages, If they knew That the empirics of today Were writing clumsy prose In lines of varying length. Calling it poetry And selling it For real money? Would they be so piqued, At not having thought of it Themselves, That they could not laugh? I ask you ! 27] THE BEACH Splotches of color on a yellow strand, Like paint flicked upon a great palette, I am one of the splotches, I muse, and wonder Are they ? Am I ? [28] "Pass the pipe — Smoke, puff — Puff, — smoke — Such is the Indian pipe of peace, dear." And the child Questions, questions so wearily, "How do they know that the puff is of peace? Do they tell by the smoke Or the puff?" [29] OWN? I touch the child Whom I love as my own, And then — as always — I turn and question The faces of women: Are you his mother? Are you ? Is he your child? Your own ? Your own ! [30] STREET CORNER ON BROADWAY ELEVEN-THIRTY P. M. A man, and a woman holding a baby, stand wait- ing for a street car. The woman joggles her baby until the little head hangs over her arm like a ripe cherry about to drop off. The baby is fast asleep ; the mother shifts the child several times and then slings it under her arm, supporting it on her hip. She stands in the gutter, one foot on the curb; her long black skirt hangs on her, dragging its full weight on her back, and sops up the filth. Her hat is askew — the woman does not heed. Her face kindles with expecta- tion as each car stops at their corner, when it passes, her eyes grow blank, only to be rekindled by that ex- pectant look as the next car approaches. The husband stands with head bent forward, as tho' asleep. At last their car swings round the corner — the woman's face brightens. The man rouses and shakes himself, puts his hand in his pocket, draws it out again, looks at the palm and carelessly flips a coin: "Huh! Only got a nickle ! No use in you takin' that car. Guess I'll buy a smoke with this. — Come on, — we'll walk home." [31 BRONZE BUDDHA Queer dear heathen god you vex me perplex me Is it calm or satiate you are? Did you guess the mystic three? Whence, why, where? They vex me perplex me Dear queer heathen god [32] ,-«^ . |?«»c*w^<«sse^iii«w| HC-^ MOMENT ENCHANTS Love, let us love as we may, Nor bruise our hearts by clinging To love passed on its way. You are you and I am I, Our love is and Then is not. In the world old game Let us play our part. And give not a thought beyond. Love, let us love as we may, In the Moment Enchante. [331 I race on faster faster, new faces places new pleasures fly past. I race on faster faster, steps gain flight is vain out distanced at last. [34] n/ YOU DON'T LIKE! You don't like your home ? Yes, it is humble. You don't like your neighbors ? Yes, they are human. You don't like your life ? Yes, it is gray. You focus your thoughts on heaven ? Yes, but you won't like heaven. You will still be you. [35] AT SIX Keys go jingling past me down the halls, Some are noisy boasting of big affairs, Some are tired But each eagerly anxious for a world beyond a door. One key is never ready . . . When it passes I am sorry. [36] MERCURY Joy Dances ! — Clouds are, rain is, water stinks in gutters. Joy Runs ! Houses glare, windows do not smile, People stare, frown, pass by. Joy Races! Like mercury over dirt Joy leaves no trace on houses, street or faces. [37] SUPPER The cook sits at his table with his plate of fried potatoes and cornbeef. The gas burner sheds a greenish light on his bald head. The smoked window high in the wall opens on a stenching alley. Two flies vainly spin around and around in a pot of warm soup. Marie Corelli's "Romance of Two Worlds'* is propped against the catsup bottle. A waitress bangs the door and bawls : "Two cornbeef, two pies and a Java !" The cook vainly flutters the leaves of Marie CorelU. [38] FOG « Fog. The waves break with a sob, And are still. Again with a sob the waves break, And are still — Again, and again. Far out Is the sigh of the whistling buoy. Choked with fog, Drowned in the surge Tossed by the waves. The buoy is rocking On dead men's graves. Broken and hoarse Is the sigh of the whistling buoy: Long breath — half strangled. Then a gasp That is drowned in the surge Like the moan of dead men Lost at sea. Far out in the fog. Faint From afar Comes the cry, [39] The wild cry Of the wandering birds of the sea Nearer and nearer the cry, Which way do they fly? Faint from afar Comes the cry, Faint Faint. With a sob the waves break, . And are still. Fog. [40] \ % -#^ DANCE OF THE SAND-SPRITE Dance we here by the old sea floor, Rush of wave and wind's wild roar ! Dance we here on the pounding shore ! Scent of salt spray flying down, Scent of moss sea-flung and dry, Scent of surf and air and wind. Dance we light to the sparkling wave ! White the rocking foam, White the wind-spent cloud. White the twisted shell, Dance we light and lighter still ! Screaming gull, and crashing tide. Piercing breath of the run-away wind. Dance we faster, faster yet! Tipsy cloud and reeling sun, Swaying sea and drunken wind Come laugh aloud, and dance with us ! And madly whirl, whirl, whirl! [41] Drop we here in the warm sand dune, Sinking sun and peaceful cloud. Lulled to rest by the long sea hiss, Lulled by the stare of the big white moon. Smothered to sleep by the drifting sand . To . . . Sleep . . . [42]