Part 2

XII

The Tree At Midnight Song Making Alone Red Maples Debtor The Wind in the Hemlock

Flame and Shadow

Blue Squills

How many million Aprils came Before I ever knew How white a cherry bough could be, A bed of squills, how blue!

And many a dancing April When life is done with me, Will lift the blue flame of the flower And the white flame of the tree.

Oh burn me with your beauty, then, Oh hurt me, tree and flower, Lest in the end death try to take Even this glistening hour.

O shaken flowers, O shimmering trees, O sunlit white and blue, Wound me, that I, through endless sleep, May bear the scar of you.

Stars

Alone in the night On a dark hill With pines around me Spicy and still,

And a heaven full of stars Over my head, White and topaz And misty red;

Myriads with beating Hearts of fire That aeons Cannot vex or tire;

Up the dome of heaven Like a great hill, I watch them marching Stately and still,

And I know that I Am honored to be Witness Of so much majesty.

"What Do I Care?"

What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring, That my songs do not show me at all? For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire, I am an answer, they are only a call.

But what do I care, for love will be over so soon, Let my heart have its say and my mind stand idly by, For my mind is proud and strong enough to be silent, It is my heart that makes my songs, not I.

Meadowlarks

In the silver light after a storm, Under dripping boughs of bright new green, I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen.

What have I to fear in life or death Who have known three things: the kiss in the night, The white flying joy when a song is born, And meadowlarks whistling in silver light.

Driftwood

My forefathers gave me My spirit's shaken flame, The shape of hands, the beat of heart, The letters of my name.

But it was my lovers, And not my sleeping sires, Who gave the flame its changeful And iridescent fires;

As the driftwood burning Learned its jewelled blaze From the sea's blue splendor Of colored nights and days.

"I Have Loved Hours at Sea"

I have loved hours at sea, gray cities, The fragile secret of a flower, Music, the making of a poem That gave me heaven for an hour;

First stars above a snowy hill, Voices of people kindly and wise, And the great look of love, long hidden, Found at last in meeting eyes.

I have loved much and been loved deeply-- Oh when my spirit's fire burns low, Leave me the darkness and the stillness, I shall be tired and glad to go.