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Chimes & 
 Humoresques 
 
 % ERNEST M. HUNT 
 
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 Copyrighted July, 1918 
 Ernest M. Hunt 
 

 ©CU501199 
 
 JUL IBiyib 
 
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 C H I M E S 
 
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 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS are due: 
 Bruno's Weekly, The Conservator, 
 Greenwich Village Anthology of Verse, 
 The Little Review, The Lyric, The 
 Evening Call, The Pagan, The Quill, 
 Slate, The Survey. 
 
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PRELUDE 
 
 In this contented church the lights are dim, 
 
 The organ is playing A Vesper Hymn 
 
 And evening scenes crowd in melodious throngs: 
 
 A mountain shepherd pipes a plaintive air; 
 A forest bird sings mellow, sun-set songs; 
 
 Mild chapel chimes call the righteous to prayer — 
 What knows, what cares, this audience of wrongs 
 Where workmen sweat on machines — pounding, grim — 
 And where the factory whistle is a vesper hymn? 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 LAMENT 
 
 There is truth in the visions of the poets, 
 But few are those that trust the poets' dreams. 
 There is a summons in the hymns of the prophets, 
 But few are those that follow the prophets' psalms. 
 
 They live, 
 
 That see and follow, 
 
 That hear and obey. 
 
 They die 
 
 That sigh, "How beautiful," 
 
 And then forget. 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 MIDNIGHT AT THE GRAVE OF 
 EDGAR ALLAN POE 
 
 Midnight is coming soon. 
 Down the mole-colored streets, 
 Through the dense, black alleys, 
 To this dark corner, 
 Midnight is coming soon. 
 
 The sleepy trolly lopes by, 
 
 Its bumping softened in the furry haze ; 
 
 Midnight is coming soon, 
 
 Soon through the silent, deserted streets — 
 
 Soon through the unwholesome, opened-drained alleys — 
 
 Soon through the cramped alleys troubled by the urge 
 
 of spring — 
 Midnight is coming soon — 
 Soon to this quiet corner 
 Midnight is coming. 
 
 A scream, 
 
 A woman's scream breaks from the throttled quarters. 
 
 Shouts . . . scurrying feet run through the alleys. 
 
 A 'policeman's whistle — 
 
 Silence falls . . . midnight is coming soon. 
 
 The clanging patrol drives by, 
 
 Up a crowded alley whose shadowy windows are full 
 
 of craning necks and staring white eyeballs. 
 Bravely the offenders are loaded 
 And sated with its prey 
 The patrol draws slowly away . . . 
 Midnight is combing soon. 
 
CHIMES AND H U M O R E S Q U E S 
 
 Midnight, 
 
 Unseeing, unheeding midnight 
 
 Has passed this abandoned corner by 
 
 She has passed by the squalor and the sorrow: 
 
 She did not pause to see the injustice nor to hear the 
 
 lies; 
 Heeding not the lynchings, the burning stakes, the 
 
 blistering tar, 
 She did not pause to ease the pain nor to shroud the 
 
 broken heart. 
 She brought no comfort 
 To this hopeless corner : 
 But on the distant cathedral bell. 
 She chimes out her death-charmed chant: 
 
 All . , 
 
 . . is . 
 
 . . well 
 
 All . . 
 
 . . is . , 
 
 . . well 
 
 All . . 
 
 , . is . , 
 
 . . well 
 
CHIMES AND HUxMORESQUES 
 
 A RAILWAY CLERK PAUSES IN GRAND 
 CENTRAL TERMINAL 
 
 I. 
 
 Yesterday I stood in an open green field under the 
 
 jaunty blue sky : 
 There the gleaming green calamus blades were waving; 
 There the red-winged blackbirds were calling "kah-ling, 
 
 kah-lee." 
 There on a calamus blade I saw a fresh-born butterfly 
 
 expanding its glossy black wings in the breeze. 
 There the wild blue-flags were blooming, in the open, 
 
 sun-lit field. 
 
 II. 
 
 Today I stand here. 
 
 The straight-edged, tawny pillars hold high the 
 
 viridescent, forget-me-not blue. 
 The shining pale sky beats against the iron-fretted 
 
 eastern windows. 
 Here comes the care-vv^orn multitude to its daily labor, 
 
 hurrying, pausing not to worship — 
 Here passes the confident, tireless masters. 
 Through here I have heard a gleeful chorus of fresh 
 
 air children singing and sturdily marching on to 
 
 the benison of the open green fields. 
 I have seen khaki-clad columns of soldiers treading 
 
 down the winding staircase. 
 I have seen rows of white-capped sailors lining those 
 
 galleries. 
 Here I have heard the exotic love songs of red and 
 
 orange-sashed Hawaiian minstrels, 
 Here I have heard plantation lullabies sung by mellow- 
 voiced Red Caps. 
 Here I have paused while all others have hurried on 
 
 and on. 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 III. 
 
 I have paused here when the lazy warm sunshine 
 slanted in from the west and the city toilers 
 with their treasured days of leisure fled to the 
 lakes and hills. 
 
 I have paused here when the faithful train crews, 
 carrying their train kits in their aching hands, 
 were returning from their struggles with frozen 
 switches, the wind and sifting snow. 
 
 I have watched here as battle-mawed heroes passed on 
 their way home from the front. 
 
 I have watched when the melons of light began to 
 glow and the trooping commuters began to 
 swing down the long-vistaed ramps. 
 
 I have watched while the throngs came and loaded 
 the fortuned youth of the city into the long 
 sleepers bounded for the camps on the shore, 
 by the lakes, in the mountains. 
 
 I have watched the grease-blacked car inspectors 
 swing their blue lanterns and bob out from 
 underneath the waiting cars. 
 
 And I have watched the trains pull out through the 
 black tunnel with its marvelous blue lights and 
 its suspicious-eyed red signals — 
 Out through the tunnels, across the bridges and 
 
 over the trestles — 
 Out beyond the city and along the river side — 
 Through the fields and up the mountain ledges — 
 The trains have sped over the ringing steel rails: 
 On . . . on . . . and on they have rushed, 
 carrying the workers, the masters, the children, 
 the soldiers, the sailors, the minstrels, the 
 wounded, the health-seekers ; the careless and 
 the gay : the mourning and the burdened ; the 
 wronged and the despised. 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 On . . . on . . . and on, past the watchful 
 signal towers and past the lifted arms of the 
 semaphores. 
 
 On . . . on . . . and on they are drawn. 
 
 On to the roadsides where the wild roses are 
 blooming; 
 
 On to the open fields where the calamus is waving. 
 
 TV. 
 
 But today I tarry here and consider the life and the 
 bounties received through you, Oh, Brother 
 Railroad Men. 
 
 The thoughtless and the troubled have passed on, 
 
 But I tarry today and send out my thanks to you : 
 
 Surveyors and engineers who planned the way ; 
 
 Laborers who gorged the cuts and graded the roadbed ; 
 
 Drillers, powdermen, mechanics, carpenters, and 
 masons; 
 
 Ironworkers, bridge builders, derrickmen ; 
 
 Bargemen, yardworkers, and signal men ; 
 
 Conductors, engineers, firemen, brakemen, and switch- 
 men; 
 
 Electricians trackmen, and maintainers ; 
 
 Dispatchers, towermen, operators, clerks — 
 
 I thank you all. 
 
 The crowds pass on. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh Brother Railroad Workers, 
 
 I have nothing to give you but my thanks, 
 
 I have nothing to oflfer you but my pledge to play well 
 
 my small melody in the great Symphony of the 
 
 Singing Rails. 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 A CLERK TO HIS ALARM CLOCK 
 
 AA^hat hand placed you there on the chair beside my 
 
 bed? 
 What hand, I say, 
 
 What insidious hand placed you there 
 Where you watch me with your sharp, prying eye, 
 Where you tick away the night and tick away the day, 
 Where you have laughed as I was joyfully transported 
 
 in my dreams? 
 
 You have laughed. 
 
 While I have sailed the sunny blue Mediterranean in 
 
 a purple-sailed Phoenician fleet — 
 While I have floated down the Nile in the amorous 
 
 arms of a princess — 
 While I have pondered in the shadowy garden of a 
 
 Grecian temple — 
 While with Caesar I have commanded the tough Roman 
 
 legions and led the riotous triumphs — 
 While with the Crusaders I zealously marched — 
 While with Luther I preached — 
 While at Valley Forge I suffered — 
 You have laughed. 
 
 What hand placed you there where you try to march 
 the helter-skelter rhythm of my dreams to your 
 metalic Click-tick, Click-tick, Click-tick, Click- 
 tick? 
 
 What hand placed you there to snicker at my nightly 
 yearnings for my far-of¥, reluctant love? 
 
 What hand will draw away and try to hide in the 
 vanishing darkness on the morning of the joyful 
 day on which we workmen will free ourselves, 
 and you will wake me for the last time with 
 your hated buzz, rattle, and ring? 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 A DAY IN WINTER 
 
 The muffled world doth lay in fluffed white and dull 
 grey. 
 Aside the bluish shades of night are slowly drawn — 
 Behold, the tardy light climbs thru the hazy dawn — 
 
 With gold piled high, the rising sun begins its sway. 
 
 The blinding sun is high and shines from^ out the sky 
 Of blued blue. The icy silver sends far-flashed 
 Reflections as to earth long prisms from eaves are 
 crashed. 
 
 The sun, receding, shows that noon is past and by. 
 
 The sun beyond the hills has fallen and it fills 
 The sky with glowing orange , . . paling fast to 
 
 grey 
 As long and blue shadows across the valleys stray. 
 Crisp white and sombre grey our world rests as fate 
 wills. 
 
 Oh God, be my light 
 All thru the coming night. 
 
 Oh God, be my sun 
 Until another day's begun! 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 THE WINDS, THE BELLS 
 
 On, on, ye winds! 
 Your keen breath sending the cutting sleet 
 Against the weary trudgers thru the city street. 
 
 On, on, ye winds! 
 Over the fallen wayfarer blow 
 With thy chilly breath that speaks of death 
 And bury him in the frozen snow. 
 
 On, on, ye winds! 
 Against the cottage pane rattle the hail. 
 Sound thy dreadful wail. 
 Till the lone wife within turns pale. 
 
 On, on, ye winds! 
 Pause not in your flurried flight ! 
 On ! on ! into the night 
 Soften thy cruel breath with this message of light: 
 
 Strength . 
 
 . . to the weak 
 
 1 
 
 Warmth . 
 
 . . to the cold! 
 
 
 Sight . . 
 
 . to the blind ! 
 
 
 Life . . 
 
 . to the dying! 
 
 
 Peace . . . peace . . . 
 the distressed. 
 
 peace 
 
 to 
 
CHIMES AND H U M O R E S Q U E S 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL 
 
 Brightly burn, our Christmas candles three; 
 Burn, brightly burn; 
 
 One for Joseph, 
 
 One for Mary, 
 And one for the infant Jesus, 
 
 Brightly burn. 
 
 Brightly burn, our Christmas candles three; 
 Burn, brightly burn; 
 
 One for love hymns, 
 
 One for peace stars. 
 And one for the birth of Justice, 
 
 Brightly burn. 
 
 Light the way, our Christmas candles three 
 Light, light the way 
 
 For Liberty, 
 
 Equality, 
 And for the Brotherhood of Man — 
 
 Light the way! 
 
C H I ]M E S AND H U M O R E S O U E S 
 
 EASTER 
 
 Of Life, and more, 
 The angels sung. 
 
 For Life, and more, 
 Spring's bells have rung. 
 
 To Life, and more. 
 The earth has sprung. 
 
 'TIS SPRING 
 
 Softly, gently, my Love touches her harp strings. 
 Sweetly, tenderly, she sings — 
 Of love. 
 
 Firmly, quickly, I strike my harp long, 
 
 As boldly, manfully I chant a song — 
 
 Of life. 
 
 Together our twanging harps ring: 
 Together we joyfully sing 
 Of God's promise of love, of life, fulfilled — 
 Tis Spring! 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 IMPATIENCE 
 
 IVe tarried long 
 To hear you sing 
 
 Your morning song. 
 
 I've tarried long, 
 
 Till now (nor wrong) 
 Birds call on wing: 
 
 'TVe tarried long, 
 
 Too !" Hear, you sing ! 
 
 REGRET 
 
 Love, 1 passed thee by, 
 Scorning thy trysting bower, 
 
 On self I would rely. 
 
 Love, I passed thee by 
 
 Heeding not thy cry, 
 Doubting thy plighted power. 
 
 Love, I passed thee by 
 Scorning thy trysting bower. 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 TO A LEMON LILY 
 
 The wonders that the spring calls forth are naught 
 To me, unless your countenance I see 
 Among them all, for you foretell with bee 
 
 That was by your rich prophecy soon caught 
 
 As I, by spicy softness that has brought 
 
 Us hope and sights of love that you decree 
 Shall rule the summer day with harmony 
 
 Not gained by magnates' dross of gold, but sought. 
 
 O Lily, wafting fragrance once again 
 
 To me, may I bow down to your pale gold, 
 
 To your spotless yellow, not to pelf of men. 
 
 Discolored by wrongs and blood and death — cajoled 
 
 From lives oppressed and broken, lost — I ken, 
 The fact that you exist has made me bold. 
 
CHIMES AND H U M ORESOUES 
 
 THE FAILURE 
 
 Come, come, O Death, I am fully thine : 
 I met Love cautiously and she left me; 
 I compromised with Life, he mastered me. 
 I give my faith and love to thee, 
 None compromise with thee, O Death! 
 
 PRESENTMENT 
 
 A shiver blows across my harp 
 
 A song stirs from my lips, but dies; 
 
 My hands with dread are numb — 
 
 Why have you not yet come? 
 
 I feel death holds you dumb. 
 You must not fear ; I will arise 
 
 And hasten to meet you. 
 
 We will start life anew. 
 
 THE POOL 
 
 I lie as a still pool 
 That mirrors but her sun's desire 
 And gives him all her cool, 
 Clear life to quench his passion's fire. 
 Then,, having taken all, he hides his face 
 In shame, showering all back with love and grace. 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUE^ 
 
 AT PARTING 
 
 Each day a lover's dream. 
 Each hour a silver song, 
 Each night has Beauty's charm- 
 When Em with thee. 
 
 Each day will darker seem, 
 Eadh hour a thorny prong : 
 Each night stirs fresh alarm — 
 When gone from thee. 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 CITY SCENES 
 
 I. 
 
 A Morning Prayer 
 
 From the board-fenced back yards of a dusty block of 
 
 flats, 
 Through the high, criss-cross clothes lines, 
 Straight upward grows a young Lombary Poplar 
 
 Tree . . . 
 So may my soul grow towards Thee, O God ! 
 
 11. 
 
 City Children 
 
 In a window on a dark side street, 
 A bowl of crocuses is growing in fiber. 
 And blooming wanely — 
 Children of the city. 
 
 III. 
 
 Flat to Let 
 
 Through dingy windows 
 
 You look at us 
 
 Appealingly 
 
 And ask to be given a soul. 
 
CHIMES AND H U M O R E S O U E § 
 
 IV. 
 Chewing Gum 
 
 I stood on the curb, waiting to cross, at the corner of 
 Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street. A young 
 woman, chewing gum, drove by in a racy red roadster. 
 Without signaHng she stopped, and held up the long 
 lines of nosing autos and green busses, while ^he spoke 
 with the Traffic Officer. Her horn honked, her car 
 swung around recklessly, and she was gone. 
 
 A few blocks on I saw some laborers digging, pick- 
 ing, cracking, drilling, lifting and loading the solid blue 
 rock from a hole two hundred feet deep, where der- 
 ricks were swinging carelessly around, and I thought 
 of the chewing gum . . . how it is chewed and 
 chewed until all flavor is gone, and then spat out and 
 trampled upon by the tread of the city . . . 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 V. 
 
 Home-Hunger 
 
 Old Andirons in the second-hand store window, 
 
 I am hoping to buy you. 
 
 I am longing to search out my loved one 
 
 So we might drowse and dream together near you 
 
 Holding glimmering, glowing fire-logs. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Dust 
 
 Friend, 
 
 How often you have tried my forbearance 
 
 By so unceasingly wiping the dust off everything. 
 
 I think that you must loathe the dust. 
 
 Because you unconsciously dread the thought of death. 
 
 Let me have 
 
 A little disordered corner to myself. 
 
 It will remind me that my bones are to fall apart into 
 
 a dry heap . . . 
 And make me humble. 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUE€ 
 
 THE HARVEST 
 
 1914. 
 
 Nations, ye have sown in 
 Doubt, suspicion, fear and 
 Hate, in greed and in death ; 
 Merciless the fiat: 
 
 Reap . . reap . . reap 
 
 Woe and desolation, 
 Trampled fields and vineyards, 
 Crumbled walls and turrets. 
 Famines, plagues, and fevers, 
 Bleaching bones and ashes : 
 
 Reap . . reap . . reap 
 
 Blood and ghoulish glory, 
 Debts to burden coming 
 Generations, starving 
 Mothers, mangled children : 
 Ripened red your harvest — 
 
 Reap . . reap . . reap 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 DISILLUSIONMENT 
 
 1914. 
 
 A dying poet speaks : 
 
 I've played my harp, 
 I've piped my pipes, 
 I've sung my songs. 
 
 It has been hard to sing my life away; 
 
 My body aching, then I sang of joy 
 
 And with my soul distressed I sang to free 
 
 From war — of peace I never knew, but that 
 
 My children and my children's children shall j 
 
 Inherit now through never ending time. ] 
 
 My harp is mute, j 
 
 My pipes are still, 
 
 My songs forgot — j 
 
 But what of that? the peace is here to stay. | 
 
 My child, three days — or is it four? — I've heard ; 
 This awful roar of storm that comes no nearer 
 
 Nor goes away. No rain ; the sun shone some. i 
 
 I have not heard the river's rushing waves — i 
 
 But what's that shuffling, hurried tread ; the creak 1 
 
 Of cart, the drivers shout — these and the far j 
 
 Prolonged roll of thunders moody roar; j 
 
 And if it were less terrible I could j 
 
 But say that these are battle's groans for I i 
 
 Heard them in youth and smelt its fetid breath I 
 
 Among the ranks. My child, you say that all i 
 My sons were called to go and help to save 
 The city from the floods. Perhaps they're called 
 For war. I think I smell the cannons' smoke — 
 
 And still, the dreadful sound can be naught else ' 
 
 Except the wrath of grudgeful gods' revenge. ; 
 
 Ah, do not tell me that the peace for which :| 
 
 I worked is — my sons may be murdered, \ 
 
 They may be murderers ! j 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 RONDEAU 
 
 Mourn not for Rheims : its charm was great. 
 Its spires rose keen against the sky. 
 For it mild peasants were taxed high. 
 The land was kept dark by the prate 
 Of priests who bowed to lords of state 
 Until they taught a living lie. 
 
 Mourn not for Rheims. 
 
 Those old rules now assassinate 
 Each other; lords and sees, they die. 
 The dawn of brotherhood draws nigh 
 And love shall overcome the hate. 
 
 Mourn not for Rheims. 
 
 SURCEASE 
 
 Whence goes the army of the liberated souls 
 Released by shock of cannon, 
 Squeezed out by starvation? 
 
 If I call them, 
 
 Will they leap back to this war-racked world and smite 
 their deceitful chiefs? 
 
 But each soul answers mine : "I am at peace." 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 TO PROFITEERS 
 
 I am an American 
 
 Believing in the equality of man, 
 
 Believing in the inalienable rights of man, 
 
 Believing in the freedom of speech, — 
 
 Principles for which my great-great grandfather fought. 
 
 You, with your viperous attacks on straight-forward, 
 
 visioned men loyal to American ideals: 
 You, with your virulent, blind prosecutions of those 
 
 who figfht for justice : 
 You, with your tarring, lashing, and lynching of the 
 
 innocent: 
 You, with your thieving corporations and packers with 
 
 their ro,tten meat for my comrades in the 
 
 U.S.A.: 
 You, with your grafters that hide like adders in the 
 
 folds of my Flag: 
 You, you damned tories! You deceitful copperheads! 
 You, you greedy traitors ! 
 Must I call you Americans? 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 SONNET 
 
 I know the hills : How patiently they bear 
 The cutting of the frosty winter day, 
 How gladly they give up their rock and clay 
 That spring may break away from winter's lair, 
 How willingly they loose the springs and share 
 Their cooling streams to damp the drought ; how they 
 Yield autumn fruits in their own kindly way; 
 How silently they bear nor breath a prayer. 
 
 The hills ! the hills ! I know the faith they teach. 
 The patient love that stays with them through rain 
 Or sun ; through growth or blight, through calm and 
 
 each 
 Long strife. In answer to a new command 
 I go and I may not return again — 
 I will not falter while my hills still stand. 
 
HUMORESQUES 
 
CHIMES AND H U M O R E S Q U E S 
 
 INVOCATION 
 
 Laugh ! Dance I 
 Laugh ! Dance ! 
 
 Fools, 
 
 Dubs, 
 
 Pikers, 
 Laugh and be saved: 
 Dance and be free! 
 Laugh, damn you, laugh! 
 
 NIGHTMARE 
 
 A crowd of women 
 
 at a bargain counter 
 
 pawing and clawing 
 
 over a sale of vivid variegated cravats. 
 
 IN AN INSANE ASYLUM 
 
 Here I could dance an idyl to the moon, 
 
 Or laugh a purple laugh, 
 
 Or wear a yellow tie, 
 
 Or an orange tie, 
 
 Or a red tie, 
 
 And not be guyed. 
 
 Here I even might have a thought of my own 
 And not be afraid 
 That it would disturb 
 Some one. 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 AT A CONCERT 
 
 Click knit; click knit; click knit; click knit. 
 
 Oh, woman, poke me in the eye, so I won't have to 
 be distracted by your pink tangle of yarn when I 
 would rather watch the players. 
 
 Click knit; click knit; click knit; click knit. 
 
 Oh, woman, poke me in the ear, so I won't have to 
 hear your needles that can't keep time with the 
 music. 
 
 Click knit ; click knit ; click knit ; click knit. 
 
 APPLAUSE 
 
 I hang 
 
 Suspended 
 
 On the marvelous manly notes that still float through 
 
 the hall 
 And grab at the coat tails of the retreating quartet. 
 
CHOIES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 ON THE AVENUE 
 
 This sophistication — this cynicism, wearies me 
 Oh to see a bowl of gold fish! 
 Oh to hear a canary singing ! 
 
 CHRISTMAS CARDS 
 
 Would Christmas 
 Still be Christmas, 
 If >lly' 
 Didn't rhyme 
 With 'holly'? 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESOUES 
 
 CHINESE PORCELAINS 
 
 I spat in my Love's new blue bowl. 
 
 She wept. 
 
 Of course,! thought she'd brought it from the Five and 
 
 Ten Cent Store. 
 But no. 
 She wept. 
 She had paid thirty-five dollars for that Blue and 
 
 White K'ang-hsi Fish Bowl. 
 She wept. 
 
 I bought her a Ming Glass Jar for her tears. 
 I weep. 
 
 ABSOLUTION 
 
 I ate a little sausage, 
 
 A sausage perplexingly small . . . 
 
 But had I been a generous, big, fat hog, 
 
 And had seen them stufif me into such mean little 
 
 sausages, 
 Would not I, too, want revenge? 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 AMBITION 
 
 Love, prod me along. 
 
 Don't let me become a bachelor like that fat 
 fellow with the yellow rose in his lapel. 
 
 He always swears 
 
 when the elevator is out of order, and puffs and 
 grunts and grows red in the face as he ascends 
 the stairs. 
 
 Love, prod me along. 
 
 TRAGEDY 
 
 O that I might have 
 Married you! I like the way 
 You say "Good morning." 
 
CHIMES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 MIRTH 
 
 I have come to rest 
 
 in the churchyard 
 
 alone. 
 Some day I will be buried here. 
 When the little roots reach down and tickle me under 
 
 the ribs, will I laugh? 
 
 LOVE 
 
 Some say, "Go that way. 
 
 Others, ''Come this way.' 
 
 I will wait for you. 
 
 GARDEN 
 
 My neighbor has a garden^ — 
 scarlet geraniums in red tubs. 
 Whitewashed stones. 
 Pick them up. 
 Throw them. 
 Hit the dumpy hydrangeas — 
 
 faces swollen with mumps 
 
 and bandaged. 
 
CHIMES AND HU MORESQUES 
 
 PERSPECTIVE 
 
 Ah, Poetry, 
 
 it seems 
 
 the closer I hold 
 
 you 
 
 and the tighter I squeeze 
 
 you 
 
 the less you tell me. 
 
 TO SOME POETS 
 
 Push aside your whiskers 
 
 so we can hear 
 
 what you are talking about. 
 
 Come out 
 
 from behind those tortoise shell spectacles 
 
 so we can see 
 
 what you look like. 
 
 RESULT 
 
 My teachers \ 
 
 were ground to dust — j 
 
 glorious dust 
 from which 
 
 I^ . \ 
 
 a sorry flower and frail, 
 
 have grown. j 
 
CHI.MES AND HUMORESQUES 
 
 VIGIL 
 
 My soul, 
 
 I lift you tenderly 
 
 Lest I drop you 
 
 And you should smash. 
 
 My soul, 
 
 I shield you prudently 
 
 Lest the greedy feasters steal you, 
 
 My soul, Thou Watermelon. 
 
H24 
 


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