ARCHWAYS 
 OF LIFE 
 
 hy 
 Mercedes de Acosta 
 
 
 
 
 
Class JPSMO 
 
 1991 
 
 CDfVRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
ARCHWAYS 
 OF LIFE 
 
ARCHWAYS OF LIFE 
 
 by 
 
 Mercedes de Acosta 
 
 Author of "Moods" etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 
 1921 
 

 \ 
 
 Copyright, 1921, by 
 MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY 
 
 MAR -4 1922 
 
 §)CU654818 
 
 ^^0 \ 
 
ro 
 
 A. P. 
 
Acknowledgment is made to " Poetry: A 
 Magazine of Verse,'' for permission to 
 reprint some of the poems in this volume. 
 
 —7— 
 
' CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Faded Petals 13 
 
 Soiled Hands 14 
 
 Reflection 15 
 
 Lumbermen 16 
 
 Sonnet . 17 
 
 Unpossessed 18 
 
 Unreality 19 
 
 Magic 20 
 
 Platitudes 21 
 
 A Dream 22 
 
 To VOULETTI 23 
 
 October 28th 24 
 
 Life's Mirage 25 
 
 Wind 26 
 
 God's Hand . 27 
 
 Words 29 
 
 Blindness 30 
 
 Spring and You 31 
 
 Walt Whitman 32 
 
 Surrender .33 
 
 We Three 34 
 
 In the Wings 38 
 
 Infatuation 39 
 
 All I Ask 40 
 
 -9- 
 
PAGE 
 
 Symbol 41 
 
 Misunderstanding ........ 42 
 
 Ending 44 
 
 Poetry 4^ 
 
 Atlantic City 48 
 
 Your Face 49 
 
 Illusion .50 
 
 Festa del Redentore in Venice . . .51 
 
 Color Symphony 52 
 
 To One Who Loves Jewels 53 
 
 Footprints 54 
 
 Life and Youth 55 
 
 Poor Fools 58 
 
 Longing 59 
 
 Music 60 
 
 Flowers and Stars 61 
 
 —10— 
 
ARCHWAYS OF LIFE 
 
 —11 
 
/ am a part of all that I have met. 
 Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' 
 Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades 
 Forever and forever when I move, 
 
 " Ulysses." 
 
 12- 
 
FADED PETALS 
 
 Come! Let us be friends. 
 
 Throw off the cloak of passion 
 
 (You wear it far too much) 
 
 And though vour sKghtest touch 
 
 Has ceased to make me tremble, 
 
 There is no reason why — 
 
 We still cannot 
 
 Climb our hill together. 
 
 And, at twilight's end, 
 
 Call each other "friend." 
 
 The rose tree fades but has its spring and 
 
 autumn, 
 And so with love. 
 But with a rose — 
 We gather its faded petals 
 And in a box of precious metals 
 We store its fragrance. 
 Why not with love? 
 And which is more beautiful — 
 Who can say.^ 
 
 A rose in bloom or the fragrance of its petals 
 In decay! 
 
 -13- 
 
SOILED HANDS 
 
 After everyone had left, 
 
 It was always so wonderful sitting in the dark 
 
 theatre with you. 
 There was a mystery about it. 
 As though the echo of many plays 
 Still lingered in the folds of the curtain. 
 While phantom figures crouched low in the 
 
 chairs. 
 Beating suppressed applause with vapor hands. 
 Do you remember how we always sat silently? 
 I would shut my eyes to feel your closeness 
 
 nearer. 
 Then slowly and like a ritual 
 I would take your hand. 
 And you would laugh a little and say, 
 "My hands are awfully sticky" — or 
 "I can't seem to keep my hands clean in this 
 
 theatre," 
 As if that mattered ... as if that mat- 
 tered. . . . 
 
 14- 
 
REFLECTION 
 
 I, WITH my back to the window, 
 
 Can see bending and swinging trees, 
 
 A gay blue patch of the sky 
 
 With the corner of a cloud looking in 
 
 And you, with your face buried in a rose, 
 
 Thus, I have my whole world. 
 
 In just this little mirror 
 
 Which I hold in the hollow of my hand. 
 
 —15— 
 
LUMBERMEN 
 
 I WATCH the lumbermen 
 Winding up the mountain 
 Between the autumn branches. 
 I see 
 
 Leaves gold, red, flame and green, 
 
 With flashes of faded blue between 
 
 Of their overalls. 
 
 Straining and pulling 
 
 Horses brown and soiled white 
 
 Stagger up the mountain side 
 
 Before them 
 
 Dragging huge and heavy timber. 
 
 Down in the valley 
 
 I can hear the echo 
 
 Of the men's muffled curses, 
 
 And the quick snap 
 
 Of long thin whips. 
 
 -16- 
 
SONNET 
 
 I COULD not wish all pain and grief and fears 
 Should leave my life and let my heart go free; 
 For then true love could never stay with me, — 
 That deepest love that had its birth in tears. 
 Smiles come in eyes, while often joy appears 
 When lovers meet — but deeper than the sea. 
 With strength that could a thousand chains 
 
 tear free, 
 Is love that from gray tragic sorrow rears. 
 
 So, love, but one rare bliss I would aspire: 
 If you would let me share your grief on earth. 
 Bear all your loss and take your pain entire — 
 Guide your dark way. Let others share your 
 
 mirth, 
 I know your gay laughter is not for me — 
 But lean on me in grief, when tears flow free. 
 
 —17— 
 
UNPOSSESSED 
 
 Never shall I be all subdued. 
 
 Nor the real secret of me understood; 
 
 Passionately and violently my body may be 
 
 possessed. 
 But my spirit 
 Always a virgin. 
 Will wander on forever 
 Unpossessed ! 
 
 18— 
 
UNREALITY 
 
 From out the window pane I see your face, 
 
 Its outline a little vague 
 
 In the dimness of the shadow. 
 
 But the whiteness of your skin 
 
 Is like a clean ship's sail, 
 
 Standing out in the darkness of a night. 
 
 And your eyes, — I see them like two golden 
 bowls, 
 
 With the rays of a thousand moonbeams sweep- 
 ing over them. 
 
 As I pass out into the blackness, 
 
 I wonder if I have ever really known you — 
 
 Or, if you exist at all — 
 
 And are not but a twisted, fevered, silver crea- 
 tion of my brain, 
 
 And the unreality of you comes over me, 
 
 Like a mist upon a lonely sea. 
 
 —19 
 
MAGIC 
 
 We, who yesterday were spring, and wine, and 
 
 flame, to each other. 
 Today are only two human beings. 
 Commonplace, and tired; 
 
 You vaguely jealous, and I slightly bored. . . , 
 But tomorrow — 
 Or the next day — 
 The Magic may come back again. 
 And with it Spring, and Win«, and Flame. 
 
 It is for this that I live. 
 
 -20 
 
PLATITUDES 
 
 Tonight for a second 
 
 I almost thought I could love you. 
 
 The mystery of the night 
 
 And stillness of the wind 
 
 Seemed to speak of love 
 
 And draw us closer. 
 
 There was something sublime 
 
 About our silence, 
 
 With only the sound of dripping water 
 
 As it splashed and fingered the bow of our boat. 
 
 I seemed to see you differently. 
 
 And for a brief instant 
 
 My love wanted to creep down 
 
 And kneel at your feet. 
 
 Just then you turned and said: 
 
 "Isn't the moon wonderful tonight!" and 
 
 "It all seems like a stage setting," 
 
 Then I knew I never could love you! 
 
 -21— 
 
A DREAM 
 
 I REMEMBER when the moon east down a flood 
 Of gold aeross my floor and you came through 
 And held my hand and brought me hope like 
 
 silver dew. 
 I remember when your touch stirred my blood 
 And taught me in a flash to dream of you. 
 And recklessly I poured your face into my 
 
 heart 
 And lodged you there — and you were a part 
 Of me, before I knew. 
 
 Then we became comrades, we two, 
 
 Even before this dream so strange and new 
 
 Eastened itseK upon my wakeful life. 
 
 And from out the chaos and maddening strife 
 
 I called to you. . . ; 
 
 And now you do not answer. 
 
 —22— 
 
TO VOULETTI 
 
 There is not a leaf grown, 
 Not a breeze that's blown. 
 Not a sweet fragrant tree 
 That is not you, to me. 
 
 In the sunlight I feel your smile, 
 In the moonlight the whole long while, 
 I feel the pressure of your hand, 
 And feeling this I understand. 
 
 I understand all sacred things. 
 The depths of Life, the secret wings 
 That carry beyond the dreary way. 
 Turning dark to light, and night to day. 
 
 All things fine, and straight, and true, 
 
 I know better because of you. 
 
 While your sweetness is like a warm fresh 
 
 shower. 
 And your face and soul like a sun-kissed flower. 
 
 —23— 
 
OCTOBER 28th 
 
 Today is your birthday. 
 
 Many people will come to you with offerings. 
 
 While I, 
 
 Who seemingly know you so slightly, 
 
 Yet who truly know you so well. 
 
 Must stand aside with empty hands. 
 
 If love could make this day perfect, 
 
 My love would weave for you 
 
 A web enmeshed with all your desires. 
 
 On your pathway 
 
 I would fling stars for pebbles 
 
 And tear down the moon 
 
 So that you might wear 
 
 The radiance of its silver 
 
 In your hair. 
 
 But instead — 
 
 I stand outside like a wall 
 
 And quite powerless 
 
 I send no gift at all. 
 
 —24 — 
 
LIFE'S MIRAGE 
 
 I HAVE seen happiness. I have seen a shm 
 figure steal 
 
 Across my path, and gathering flowers, laugh- 
 ingly kneel 
 
 And strew them on my way. . . . 
 
 Then, but for one brief day, 
 
 I have seen them bloom beneath my feet, and 
 fade away. 
 
 I have heard happiness. I have heard its 
 voice, blown through the trees. 
 
 Calling and whispering in soft minor keys; 
 
 I have heard the voice of heart's desire, the 
 voice of Hope, 
 
 Chanting melodiously and luring me up the 
 slope 
 
 Of Life. 
 
 I have held happiness. Like a grain of sand. 
 Golden and beautiful, and gathered in my hand, 
 There, one second — then gone again: 
 Elusive, transient: all in vain 
 To try and hold it. 
 
 —25- 
 
WIND 
 
 If I should die, 
 
 I would be buried air-tight beneath the ground. 
 
 While you — 
 
 Your gold hair blowing in the breeze — 
 
 Would still feel the caress of the wind, 
 
 And on your face would steal 
 
 A smile. 
 
 If I should die. 
 
 My body would be buried air-tight beneath the 
 
 ground. 
 But my spirit will wander in the wind 
 That touches and circles about your face. 
 Perhaps you will know this — 
 And recognizing my touch 
 For this reason, you will smile. ... 
 
 The smile I know and love. 
 
 —26— 
 
GOD'S HAND 
 
 Let me wander back over the mountains, 
 
 And facing the sea 
 
 Live under the open sky — 
 
 Too long have I been encumbered 
 
 With the deceit of man 
 
 And his spoken he. 
 
 I wish to die, 
 
 Away from petty thoughts 
 
 And treacherous ways. 
 
 And end my days 
 
 Alone. 
 
 I shall sing no sad lament 
 
 That no hand guides me; 
 
 But rather shall the vision I once have been 
 
 Through solitude, make me again the thing I 
 
 might have been. 
 The self I lost because I trusted, loved and 
 
 hoped. 
 And blinded my eyes with the dust of faith and 
 
 groped 
 My way to truth. 
 
 —27— 
 
There is no truth in man — 
 
 Only shall I find it 
 
 In grasping God's Hand 
 
 That leads my way to hill and tree, 
 
 And stamps His Truth upon the sea. 
 
 In nature shall I find my life, 
 
 Through nature lose the poisoned knife. 
 
 That tried to slay me. 
 
 In solitude I shall breathe life's breath. 
 
 And breathing life I shall welcome death. 
 
 —28 
 
WORDS 
 
 Words — words — 
 
 Why are you forever fencing? 
 
 And if you must fence 
 
 Cannot you use something else 
 
 Besides words! 
 
 Do you remember the last night? 
 
 We talked so madly — 
 
 Words again 
 
 And then more words. 
 
 It all seemed a tangled net of words. 
 
 You were trying to convince me of something 
 
 (God knows what) 
 
 And I was trying to answer intelligently 
 
 And keep my end up. 
 
 But somehow and suddenly 
 
 Our words meant so little; 
 
 Then you leaned forward 
 
 And your knee touched mine 
 
 And after that my thoughts blurred 
 
 And our words meant nothing. 
 
 -29- 
 
BLINDNESS 
 
 Perhaps you are not much — 
 And maybe you are heartless 
 As they say you are — 
 And yet, 
 
 I shall always try to believe 
 That you are all the things 
 That I would have you, 
 So, that in the end, 
 I shall not have to know 
 My love and dreams of you 
 Have been all in vain 
 And wasted. 
 
 —30— 
 
SPRING AND YOU 
 
 Today there is a smell of Spring in the air — 
 That sad restless note that makes one stretch 
 
 forth longing hands 
 Into the heart of Life. 
 I who used to hate Spring, 
 Can never hate it again, 
 Because it has brought me you. 
 Now, Love and April, and the gold of your 
 
 hair, 
 Are all mingled together 
 Like the blending of an exotic dream plant 
 With the fragrant perfume of a strange, frail 
 
 flower. 
 
 —31— 
 
WALT WHITMAN 
 
 I WOULD dare say that you are a superman. 
 
 Would fling the words out to the world 
 
 And dare him who dares to question it. 
 
 I would satiate myself with the art of you; 
 
 Would fling aside the talent of the many, 
 
 For the gift of the few 
 
 Whom you have touched. 
 
 In your hands you hold a torch of light, 
 
 A message in your being. 
 
 While in your eyes — 
 
 Far seeing vision clear and bright. 
 
 There is power in your poise, 
 
 And magic 
 
 In your rhythm, advance and wait. 
 
 Drinking in your greatness, 
 
 I, myself, am great. 
 
 -32- 
 
SURRENDER 
 
 I WILL offer all my love 
 
 Recklessly, without rest. 
 And give myseff completely 
 
 Upon my darling's breast — 
 Our pulses shall beat as one pulse, 
 
 And in that sacred breath 
 I shall feel the touch of Life 
 
 Yet know the truth of Death! 
 
 —33— 
 
WE THREE 
 
 Theee is something that from between us has 
 
 sHpped away and left me chill, 
 Something that by its loss has made the world 
 
 less warm 
 And made me feel as though the sun rising o'er 
 
 the purple dew-touched hill, 
 Finds its rays cold as it touches the face of 
 
 dawn. 
 
 Although we kiss and meet the same each day. 
 You speak my name and I yours and we clasp 
 
 hands, 
 Yet from somewhere, I do not know which 
 
 way. 
 Stealing between us a lurking figure stands. 
 
 A figure clad in gray. . . . 
 
 To me a dream, a phantom come to steal 
 
 My starlight quite away. 
 
 To you a gay figure, not strange but real. 
 
 And all the while it lurks and turns. 
 
 And from every cell and corner of my brain 
 
 I feel its presence and the burns 
 
 Even of your kisses cannot make me sane. 
 
 —34— 
 
Why should this figure strange and sinister 
 Keep on coming? Why should she in the night 
 Breathe words of comfort and administer 
 Balm to my soul, pointing the way to light? 
 
 While when we meet in the day a dread silence 
 lingers, 
 
 A silence chill which with no kindness blends 
 
 A word of cheer, or kind touch for my trem- 
 bling fingers; 
 
 No look to prove that we are even friends. 
 
 Sometimes when you call my name I hear a 
 
 tone 
 Of her voice within yours, and you say 
 Things which she will say at night and when 
 
 alone. 
 Or what she's said before just that way. 
 They say we dream in sleep, but I must dream 
 
 by day. 
 Because on waking she is a dream child, nor 
 
 seems less fair. 
 Though more cruel than when I left her in my 
 
 sleep sitting there. 
 
 If I could brush away this vision and start 
 
 once again, 
 If I could see sunlight and feel less sad, 
 
 —35— 
 
If I could only steady the confusion of my brain, 
 Somewhere, somehow I might again be glad. 
 And by a laugh or carefree jest, 
 I might once more call your love from out the 
 
 past 
 And hold you closely to my side — lest. 
 Again between us the figure stand and fast 
 Would bind my hands and from me turn your 
 
 face away, 
 Making once more my day a night and my 
 
 night a day. 
 
 Ah, love, if we could turn Spring into last 
 
 Spring again. 
 Or if I could toss my heart away and make it 
 
 new; 
 If I could drink deeply of some draught to ease 
 
 the pain. 
 Or become more callous, less kind and far, far 
 
 less true. . . . 
 Less true to ideals, to love and you. 
 
 Perhaps I will, then my brain will cease to 
 
 ache. 
 And this sad frenzied chaos I will not prolong; 
 Then for yours, or mine or hers or each one's 
 
 sake, 
 I will wave farewell to you, singing Love's Swan 
 
 Song. 
 
 —36— 
 
Singing Love's Swan Song, so that this may 
 
 truly be. 
 That never again will false love take hold 
 
 of me; 
 I may be mad, but which is the maddest of 
 
 we three. 
 Is it you? Or I? Or is it she? 
 
 37- 
 
IN THE WINGS 
 
 Back in the wings 
 
 I remember how I used to stand by your side 
 until you went on. 
 
 I remember the darkness and the slow beat of 
 the music — 
 
 And the mad desire in me to hold you always 
 near me. 
 
 I remember the weird reflection of the colored 
 spot as it circled round, 
 
 And you gazing intensely at the dancers, 
 
 While I watched only the curve of your neck 
 and the way your hair grew. 
 
 You seemed to be always thinking of the 
 dancers. 
 
 Or, as you said yourself so often, 
 
 "Of nothing at all." 
 
 But I, while standing with my shoulder touch- 
 ing yours, 
 
 Or holding your hand — 
 
 Would dream great, wonderful dreams that car- 
 ried far beyond the horizon! 
 
 —38— 
 
INFATUATION 
 
 It is not that I shall ever forget 
 The charm of your face, this I do not fear, 
 Or the rhythmic sway of your form, nor yet 
 The melody of the voice I loved to hear. 
 These things I shall remember. 
 I shall remember, too, the beauty of your eyes 
 And the stirring curves of your crimson mouth, 
 Like lightning storms and wind-swept flam- 
 ing skies 
 Set on fire by the hot sun of the South. 
 I can recall all the words you promised and 
 
 said. 
 Your seductive caressing ways and the false 
 
 kisses you gave to me; 
 Remembering these I cannot help harboring 
 
 the dread 
 That some day I will return, remembering no 
 longer your cruelty. 
 
 —39— 
 
ALL I ASK 
 
 Not caresses, nor the touch of your hand, nor 
 
 the sweet savor 
 Of your love, I ask; nor the flavor 
 Of your hps against mine day by day; 
 (These joys I could not hope to stay). 
 They will pass and naught remain. 
 Except sweet memories, or perhaps the pain 
 Of their departure. 
 I could not hope that you would give these 
 
 things forever, 
 Nor that our lives in one long dream could pass 
 
 together; 
 But when love's tide has ebbed and after you 
 
 quite forget. 
 May there come to you no sad remorse or deep 
 
 regret 
 For the things that you have given. 
 
 — 40— 
 
SYMBOL 
 
 You are a symbol to me 
 
 Of all the better things I might have been. 
 
 Of all the best things I still might be, 
 
 Of all the wonderful things that are not 
 
 But exist somewhere in the God Mind 
 
 As yet unborn and unfulfilled — 
 
 These things you are to me. 
 
 Then you are Truth and Silence — 
 
 Both the Divine Force and the Great Strength, 
 
 And being all these things 
 
 You cannot help — being Love ! 
 
 —41— 
 
MISUNDERSTANDING 
 
 You have so completely misunderstood me 
 
 Vainly I have tried to reach you 
 
 But always you have turned away. 
 
 And yet, 
 
 Like a blue flame 
 
 Burning hot and fiercely 
 
 My faith has ever burned for you. 
 
 Through the darkness 
 
 Of my loneliness 
 
 I have prayed for even small gleams 
 
 From the candle of your thoughts — 
 
 I would not pray for love; 
 
 But all the while 
 
 I would gladly have worn my soul out 
 
 To bring you joy. 
 
 And more than that. . . . 
 
 Had you asked — 
 
 For you I would have made a plaything 
 
 Of my dreams. 
 
 But what does it all matter — 
 
 Why should I care 
 
 That you do not love me, 
 
 —42— 
 
Or that you turn away and despise me? 
 Since through you I have found inspiration 
 (All unworthy that you are) 
 And quite unknowingly you have shown me 
 The pathway to a star! 
 
 —^S— 
 
ENDING 
 
 Life! I am broken, tired, 
 
 I have drunk too deep and wandered far — 
 
 And coveted a star. 
 
 I have been a rebel 
 
 And fought against your laws. I was bent 
 
 On wielding you . . . but you had me in your 
 
 firmament 
 And I never knew. 
 Now I know — 
 I know I cannot beat you. 
 And he who wants to meet you 
 Must go your way 
 Or Perish. 
 
 Life! I am weary, spent. 
 
 The sun you gave me was only lent 
 
 And now at the end of my day 
 
 It has faded and gone away. 
 
 I am lonely and grown cold; 
 
 Youth is on my brow, yet I am old. 
 
 And darkness falls around me. 
 
 — 44 — 
 
Life! I am finished, ended, 
 
 But before my way from you I've wended, 
 
 I only ask one thing. I, who used to ask so, 
 
 much ! 
 (The music has stopped and I feel no touch), 
 Life! I falter because the way is far too steep 
 And so in pity just send me . . . Sleep! 
 
 —45- 
 
POETRY 
 
 Like a beautiful, frail, seductive woman 
 
 Who flings herself across her lover's couch 
 
 And wets his lips with desire — 
 
 So you, too. 
 
 Fling and stretch your long, lean, white- 
 limbed body, 
 
 Across the couch of Life 
 
 And with your lips alluring. 
 
 You chant your rhythmic, undulating, euphoni- 
 ous, melodious song. 
 
 Into the heart of me. 
 
 Vainly I try to tear myself 
 
 From the bondage of your voice. 
 
 And cast you off — 
 
 But from far away, 
 
 And deep down in the long unlived-in and bar- 
 ren valleys of my soul, 
 
 I feel the breath of you. 
 
 You are like pastures green. 
 
 When one has lived forever with face pressed 
 to the sand; 
 
 You are like cool, moist rocks with moss between; 
 
 —46— 
 
You are like shadows of thin cypress trees 
 
 Across a moonht stream — 
 
 Like rippHng, twisting, sprays of foam 
 
 Across the dark unfathomable sea. 
 
 These things you seem to me. 
 
 In you, Oh, Poetry, 
 
 Lies the power to lift me up. 
 
 And mad w'th frenzied exaltation 
 
 To bear my spirit beyond the need of any 
 
 mortal want. 
 In you the power 
 To beat upon my heart strings. 
 And quivering, with your music, 
 To toss for me weird, flaming words across my 
 
 brain, 
 And hear your rhythm in my soul beat back 
 
 again. 
 In you the power to dash me down — 
 For in my desire to create a child of yours; 
 And after infinite toil and labor pain. 
 To find it deformed, weak, and not worthy of 
 
 your name. 
 
 —47 
 
ATLANTIC CITY 
 
 Vulgar houses 
 
 And large grotesque hotels, 
 
 Thousands of swarming people. 
 
 Overfed, disgusting, and fat, 
 
 Or pale and sickly; 
 
 Creeping along the boardwalk 
 
 Or being pushed by sweating niggers 
 
 In pigmy houses built on wheels. 
 
 Shops filled with gaudy finery — 
 
 Cheap laces, false jewelry, and pink 
 
 and blue sea salt candy. ... 
 And then more shops. 
 And million dollar piers 
 Stretching their sordid hands out toward the 
 
 horizon. 
 And reaching down into the depths and sacred 
 
 blueness of the ocean. 
 Which, in the face of all such man-built 
 
 hideousness. 
 Remains forever, mysterious, 
 Sublime and beautiful! 
 
 —48— 
 
YOUR FACE 
 
 How glorious is the coming back to your face 
 
 After I have seen so many others 
 
 All missing something, 
 
 And failing me completely. 
 
 Faces filled with lust and hatred, 
 
 With joy, hope and despair; 
 
 Some dripping with greed and others fresh with 
 
 love — 
 But in your face, 
 I find the consummation or possibility of all 
 
 these things. 
 Both good and evil — 
 Like a well 
 
 With no man capable of measuring its depth. 
 Mysterious, pathetic, sensitive, strong and 
 
 weak; 
 But always exquisite 
 With a beauty that creates in my heart an 
 
 aching thing 
 That penetrates and fires my soul forever. 
 How glorious is the coming back to your face 
 After I have seen so many others. 
 
 -49— 
 
ILLUSION 
 
 Last year 
 
 Within this door 
 
 We stood and dreamed 
 
 Great dreams. 
 
 I remember the Hght 
 
 In your face, 
 
 And the odor of my hhes, 
 
 Suffocating and strange. 
 
 This year — 
 
 You have gone 
 
 And I have ceased to dream. 
 
 But my Khes are flowering once more, 
 
 And their odor. 
 
 In the dusk's wane. 
 
 Creates you. 
 
 And our dreams, 
 
 All over again. 
 
 —50- 
 
FESTA DEL REDENTORE IN VENICE 
 
 Deep blue water, 
 
 Like a dark sapphire; 
 
 A thousand swinging lanterns 
 
 Reflected in its depths, 
 
 And hung from gondolas 
 
 Whose blackness makes them forever 
 
 True comrades of the night. 
 
 Fireworks with spark and light; 
 
 Dripping from the skies. 
 
 Like thirsty stars 
 
 Bending to cool their lips 
 
 On Venetian waters. 
 
 Near by and far 
 
 The echo of a carefree laugh. 
 
 The plaintive voices of violins, 
 
 And clear songs of living men; 
 
 While deep in the shadows 
 
 Of beauty and old palaces, 
 
 Crouch the ghosts of tears and crime, 
 
 And men long centuries dead. 
 
 —51 
 
COLOR SYMPHONY 
 
 Open wings of sea gulls 
 
 And snow peaks are white; 
 
 Deep water in ancient slime-lined wells 
 
 Is black — 
 
 Great cities are gray, 
 
 With dark, gloomy smoke rising to kill the 
 
 day. 
 Sunsets are gold 
 And sometimes red. 
 While the moon glows silver, 
 And then instead 
 Its face seems rose. 
 But love — 
 Love is all colors. 
 
 Sometimes black and sometimes red, 
 Seldom white but again gold — 
 Colors of youth and colors old; 
 Faded colors. 
 Lavender, green. 
 
 With stretches of orange in between. 
 Love is often a deep rich blue, 
 Or crimson for blood 
 With a dark brown hue. 
 Love is gray 
 Like twilight's breath — 
 Love — all color symbols of life 
 Yet, in reality, Death! 
 
 —52— 
 
TO ONE WHO LOVES JEWELS 
 
 I GAVE you verses of mine 
 
 Telling of my sadness 
 
 And praising your beauty, 
 
 But you tossed the beautiful white sheets 
 
 That bore my poems 
 
 Disdainfully away from you. 
 
 I gave you my love — 
 
 And more than that, 
 
 I gave my dreams by night and day, 
 
 But you understood neither 
 
 And turned your face away. 
 
 Then I gave you a jewel, 
 A dark sapphire like the night 
 With depths in it like the sea. 
 And for that sapphire alone 
 You smiled at me. 
 
 -53— 
 
FOOTPRINTS 
 
 Stretching before me the ever-moving but 
 never-changing sea, 
 
 Looking so wild and dark with mad white 
 blotches of foam across its face — 
 
 While I, 
 
 A mere grain of sand in the turmoil and winds 
 of Time, 
 
 Stand alert and tense, 
 
 Gazing forward and wondering and peering into 
 the Future. . . . 
 
 Across the depths of the sea hundreds of cen- 
 turies roll past. 
 
 And along its shores I follow the worn and 
 faded footprints 
 
 Of men long since dead. 
 
 —54- 
 
LIFE AND YOUTH 
 
 Through the archways of Life I tread, 
 
 Nor do I walk with much less dread, 
 
 Because I know 
 
 That where I go. 
 
 Millions have walked before me. 
 
 I do not feel less pain because 'tis said, 
 
 That saints and martyrs and soldiers have bled 
 
 For what they gave. 
 
 I am not brave 
 
 Because of this. 
 
 I weep not less. 
 
 Because in distress 
 
 Others, perhaps being stronger, have not wept 
 
 as much; 
 For Stoics, and tearless people, and because of 
 
 such 
 Restraint, I hold not back my tears. 
 
 I borrow not my courage from the crowd. 
 My heart is heavy and my head is bowed — 
 But were I to raise my head high. 
 And cast my eyes up to the sky, 
 A star might guide me. 
 
 —55— 
 
I cannot be what has been, 
 I cannot see what's been seen. 
 I shape my course. 
 And gather force, 
 From what's to come. 
 
 The future is my golden star. 
 My inspiration — and from afar, 
 I see the deeds that may be done, 
 I watch a race that may be run. 
 And hold my breath in ecstasy. 
 
 Away! Black shadows of the past, 
 
 Stale traditions that hold us fast. 
 
 Because they were. 
 
 Must we not stir 
 
 From off their worn out path.^^ 
 
 I take up the spade of Youth and of Life, 
 And fling new pebbles on the path, where 
 
 strife 
 Has worn the old ones out. 
 I dig and put to rout. 
 Old fancies and old doubt. 
 
 -56- 
 
Across the world I hear a clear, new note; 
 The locks are shattered and the chains are 
 
 smote. 
 And a moonbeam has fallen across life's 
 
 shoulder. 
 I raise my sword, and like a pioneer soldier, 
 I sharpen it on the Shield of Hope. 
 
 -57— 
 
POOR FOOLS 
 
 The war is over — 
 
 Once more they think that they may dance, 
 
 And make the old-time gilded show, 
 
 And drink behind closed doors 
 
 Their forbidden, hoarded wine. 
 
 And pin jewels upon their breasts. 
 
 Dance on. 
 
 Poor fools. 
 
 Because you do not know 
 
 That marching 
 
 Over the face of the world 
 
 Another Great Army is sweeping! 
 
 —58— 
 
LONGING 
 
 All night long I used to wish that I were dead, 
 "May I never see another dawn," I said. 
 
 Now I long for dawn the whole night through 
 Because on waking it brings me — you ! 
 
 —59 
 
MUSIC 
 
 Forever, they are telling me 
 
 How futile are your words. 
 
 And yet — '■ 
 
 It seems strange the spell you created when you 
 
 spoke to me. 
 I would never listen much to what you were 
 
 saying, 
 Because I was always hearing just the song in 
 
 your voice. 
 Quite ordinary things you would say, 
 Such as: 
 
 "I am really very tired tonight" — or 
 "I wonder why the curtain is so late?" 
 Or sometimes you would talk of simple things 
 
 done during the day. 
 But to me — 
 
 To me it was all wonderful 
 Because your voice 
 Was mellow and low, 
 And sounded like the muflBed pealing 
 Of some distant old church bell. 
 
 -60— 
 
FLOWERS AND STARS 
 
 Flowers are the stars of earth, 
 Stars, the flowers of the sky; 
 But you are both in my heart — 
 Flowers and stars till I die. 
 
 —61— 
 
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