Part 7

Here in my room I kneel, alone, to pray, But there seems very little, dear, to say Even to God. So, kneeling by my bed, I think dim thoughts, and dream long dreams instead. Wide-eyed I kneel and watch the candle flame, Making swift shadows on the wall; your name Throbs in my heart, and makes my pulse to thrill-- Wide-eyed I kneel, with soul a-light, until Somewhere a clock starts chiming.... It is late.... Out through the dark wan tenderness and hate Press pale kisses upon the city's lips-- Dawn comes creeping, the weary nighttime slips Furtively by, like some hurt thief with plunder.... Dear, I cross to my window, and I wonder Whether you are asleep, or if you lie, Sleepless beneath the smoke-hung purple sky....

Down in the streets the tired city vaguely clatters, Here alone in my room I stand, and nothing matters, Only.... I love you!

THE BALCONY SCENES

The stage is set, like a garden, And the lights are flickering and low; And a Romeo with fat legs, Is telling a Juliet with dyed hair and tired, disillusioned eyes, That love--real love--is the only thing in the world.

And up in the balcony of the theatre Where the seats cost twenty-five cents, A slim little girl in a shiny serge frock, And a boy with a wistful mouth Are holding hands. And as they listen, breathlessly, to the studied voice of the actor, Their fingers are all a-thrill, With the music of the ages.

A BOWERY PAWN-SHOP

A dusty, musty little shop set in a dingy street, A doorsill old and scarred and worn by many tired feet, A row of cases, vaguely glassed, a safe against the wall, And, oh, the ache of many hearts--the fabric of it all!

A violin with broken strings that fingers have caressed, A diamond-set betrothal ring that lover's lips have pressed, A high shell comb, a spangled fan, a filmy bit of lace, A heart-shaped locket, ribbon-tied, that frames a laughing face.

A pair of blankets folded up, an overcoat, a shawl, A tall old clock that might have chimed in some wainscoted hall, And in the farthest corner, where the purple shadows lie, The echo of a woman's sob, the phantom of a sigh.

Ah, wedding-rings--a score of them--not many of them new, A grim revolver laid beside a baby's tiny shoe, A satin coat, a ragged gown, a gold-clasped book of verse, A necklace of bedraggled pearls, an empty silver purse.

A dreary weary little shop set in a sunless place. A little shop where love has met with sorrow and disgrace.... A row of cases, double-locked, a safe against the wall; And, oh, the ache of countless hearts that lies behind it all!

SPRING IN THE CITY

I saw a crocus blooming in the park, I felt a hint of magic in the air, I heard faint music sighing everywhere, And so, as all the world, grew softly dark--

I found again the hope that never dies, And hungrily, with out-flung arms, I came Once more to you. And when you spoke my name I read springtime eternal in your eyes!

ROSE PETALS IN THE EARLY RAIN, FORGOTTEN DREAMS, AND A TORN SKETCH BOOK!

LI'L EMPTY CLOSET

There's a li'l empty closet in a li'l empty room, Where th' shadows lie like dust upon th' floor; It uster be HIS closet not s' very long ago-- That's why I don't go near it any more. Every li'l hook is empty, 'ceptin' one, an' from it hangs (Th' whitest li'l ghost that ever grew In a heart that's near ter breakin' with it's agony o' grief! ) An empty flannel nightie piped with blue.

Jus' a li'l flannel nightie that was shrunken in th' wash, In spots th' blue has ran inter th' white; But I've seen him in it, sleepy, when I tucked th' covers in, An' kissed him, soft, an took away th' light. Jus' a li'l flannel nightie, hangin' empty on a hook, As if it was ashamed--or in disgrace-- Jus' a li'l flannel nightie an' it ain't no use no more, But I couldn't bear t' take it from its place!

Jus' a li'l empty closet in a li'l empty room, Where th' shadows lie like dust upon th' floor-- It uster be his closet, where I'd put his clothes away, That's why I hate ter go there any more. But I've left his li'l nightie hangin' on a single hook, I sorter had ter leave it there, I guess; Ah, that li'l empty closet in that li'l empty room Is crowded--crowded ful o' loneliness!

TWO LULLABYS

I. To A DREAM BABY

Oh, little child whose face I cannot see, I feel your presence very near tonight, I feel the warmth of you creep close to me... The grey moths drift across the candlelight, And tiny shadows sway across the floor, Like wistful elves who do a fairy dance; The wind is tapping softly at the door, And rain is beating, like a silver lance, Against the tightly curtained window pane. Oh, little child whose face I cannot see, The loneliness, the twilight, and the rain, Have brought your dearness very close to me. And though I rock with empty arms, I sing A lullaby that I have made to croon Into your drowsy shadow ear--a song About the star sheep and the shepherd moon!

II. POPPY LAND

Sleep, little tired eyes, close to the heart of me, Sleep while the sun trembles low in the west; You who are dream of my dreams, and a part of me-- Sleep with your head lying warm on my breast.

Dear, there's a land that is filled with red flowers, Poppies, they call them, that sway in the breeze; Sometimes their petals, in soft scarlet showers, Fall in warm drifts that are high as your knees.... Dear, in your dreams you will laugh as you roll through them, Waving your arms in an effort to creep; Gently they nod as the wind sings its soul through them, Sleep, little tired eyes, sleep....

Dear, in this land there's a sky like a feather, Blue in some places, or white as a star; And there's a fragrance--a plant that's called heather Grows in the spot where the butterflies are. Dear, there are pastures as gay as glad laughter, Dotted with hundreds of woolly white sheep, Dear, you can pat them, for they'll follow after You, as you sleep....

Dream, little tired eyes, close to the breast of me, Wander in fields where red flowers are gloaming; All of my heart wanders with you, the rest of me Watches your dreaming....

I DREAMED YOUR FACE