Part 4

The window box across the street Is filled with scarlet flowers; They glow, like bits of sunset cloud, Across the dragging hours. What though the mist be like a shroud What though the day be dreary? The window box across the street Is warm, and gay, and cheery!

The window box across the street Is filled with scarlet flowers; I almost catch their perfume sweet.... Above the sound of tramping feet, They sing of country bowers. Against the house that looms so gray, They smile in--well, a friendly way.

A tired shop girl hurries by; Their color seems to catch her eye; She pauses, starts, and wistfully She gazes up. It seems to me That I can hear her longing sigh.... A little shop girl hurries by.

A newsboy stops to sell his wares; The crowds brush by him; no one cares To buy his papers. But above The scarlet flowers bravely grow In token of the Father's love.... The crowds brush coldly by below.

A blind man stumbles, groping past; He cannot see their scarlet shine; And yet some memory seems to twine About his soul. For, oh, he turns As trusting as a child who yearns For some vague dream, and smilingly He lifts the eyes that cannot see.... A blind man stumbles, groping past.

The window box across the street Is filled with scarlet flowers; They tell a secret, tender, sweet, Through all the dreary hours. And folk who hurry on their way Dream of some other brighter day.... The window box across the street Is filled with scarlet flowers.

ON FIFTH AVENUE

I walked down Fifth Avenue the other day (In the languid summertime everybody strolls down Fifth Avenue); And I passed women, dainty in their filmy frocks, And much bespatted men with canes. And great green busses lumbered past me, And impressive limousines, and brisk little 'lectrics.

I walked down Fifth Avenue the other day, And the sunshine smiled at me, And something, deep in my heart, burst into song. And then, all at once, I saw her-- A woman with painted lips and rouge-touched cheeks-- Standing in front of a jeweler's window. She was looking at diamonds-- A tray of great blue-white diamonds-- And I saw a flame leap out of her eyes to meet them (Greedy eyes they were, and cold, like too-perfect jewels); And I realized, for the first time, That diamonds weren't always pretty.

And then I SAW THE OTHER ONE: A thin little girl looking into a florist's shop At a fragrant mass of violets, dew-purple and fresh. She carried a huge box on her arm, And a man, passing, said loudly, "I guess somebody's hat'll be late today!" And the thin little girl flushed and hurried on, But not before I had seen the tenderness in her eyes-- The tenderness that real women show When they look at vast rolling hills, or flowers, or very small pink babies.

I walked down Fifth Avenue the other day. (All the world walks, leisurely, down Fifth Avenue in the summertime.)

FROM A CITY WINDOW

The dust is thick on the city street, The smoke on the city sky Hangs dense and gray at the close of day-- And the city crowds surge by With heavy feet through the summer heat Like a sluggish sullen tide;... But hand in hand through a magic land We are wandering side by side.

For somewhere, dear, there's a magic land On the shores of a silver sea; And there is a boat with turquoise sails-- With sails that are wide and free; A boat that is whirling through the spray, That is coming for you and me!

Somewhere, dear, there's a singing breeze That creeps through the laughing air To the wide-flung boughs of a blue-black tree-- It touches your joyous hair; And the touch of it is as soft and light As a baby's lisping prayer.

Somewhere, dear, there's a bit of beach Where the sand is warm and white; Where the sky seems close and the drifting clouds Are tenderly, warmly bright. And there is a ship with turquoise sails, With sails like a living light!

Ah, the ship is bringing us dreams come true, And hopes that are all dew-kissed; It is bringing us days that are all aglow With scarlet and amethyst;... Bringing us faith to find our way Through a world that is wrapped in mist.

Our window looks on the city street, We can glimpse the city sky; But our hearts are gay at the close of day, Though the tired crowds pass by With heavy feet through the blinding heat, Like a sullen, sluggish tide.... For hand in hand through a magic land. We are wandering side by side.

THE LADY ACROSS THE COURT

She only comes when night is near, And stands a moment quietly Beside her window, in the dusk-- She lives across the court from me-- And though I cannot see her eyes Because she is too far away, I somehow feel that they are kind, And very soft, and widely gray!

Her hands are only dim white blurs, That rest against the window pane; And yet I know that they are firm, And cool and sweet as April rain. And, oh, I cannot help but wish As, through the dark, I go to bed, That they might rest a moment like A little prayer upon my head!

She only comes when night is near, I do not know who she can be; I never see her anywhere But just across the court from me.... I am so small the curtains hide The wistful smiles that I have smiled, And yet I, somehow, think she feels The love of me--a lonely child.

TO A PORCELAIN PUPPY DOG

Oh, pudgy porcelain puppy dog from far-away Japan, I saw you in a shop to-day where lonesomely you sat Upon a velvet cushion that was colored gold and purple, Between a bowl of goldfish, and a sleeping wooden cat.

I wonder what you thought about as stolidly you sat there, A grin of faint derision on your pudgy porcelain face; I wonder if you dreamed about some cherry blossom tea house, And if the goldfish bored you in their painted Chinese case?

I wonder if you dreamed about the laughter of the geishas As languidly they danced across the shining lacquered floor, I wonder if your thoughts were with a purple clump of iris That bloomed, all through the summer, by the little tea house door?

I wonder if you hated us who passed, you by unheeding, You who had known the temples of another, older land? And, oh, I wonder if you knew when I had paused beside you To pat you, porcelain puppy dog, that I could understand?

COLORS