Part 5

Yet whenever I turn To your gray eyes over me, It is as though I looked For the first time at the sea.

The Net

I made you many and many a song, Yet never one told all you are-- It was as though a net of words Were flung to catch a star;

It was as though I curved my hand And dipped sea-water eagerly, Only to find it lost the blue Dark splendor of the sea.

The Mystery

Your eyes drink of me, Love makes them shine, Your eyes that lean So close to mine.

We have long been lovers, We know the range Of each other's moods And how they change;

But when we look At each other so Then we feel How little we know;

The spirit eludes us, Timid and free-- Can I ever know you Or you know me?

In a Hospital IV

Open Windows

Out of the window a sea of green trees Lift their soft boughs like the arms of a dancer, They beckon and call me, "Come out in the sun!" But I cannot answer.

I am alone with Weakness and Pain, Sick abed and June is going, I cannot keep her, she hurries by With the silver-green of her garments blowing.

Men and women pass in the street Glad of the shining sapphire weather, But we know more of it than they, Pain and I together.

They are the runners in the sun, Breathless and blinded by the race, But we are watchers in the shade Who speak with Wonder face to face.

The New Moon

Day, you have bruised and beaten me, As rain beats down the bright, proud sea, Beaten my body, bruised my soul, Left me nothing lovely or whole-- Yet I have wrested a gift from you, Day that dies in dusky blue:

For suddenly over the factories I saw a moon in the cloudy seas-- A wisp of beauty all alone In a world as hard and gray as stone-- Oh who could be bitter and want to die When a maiden moon wakes up in the sky?

Eight O'Clock

Supper comes at five o'clock, At six, the evening star, My lover comes at eight o'clock-- But eight o'clock is far.

How could I bear my pain all day Unless I watched to see The clock-hands laboring to bring Eight o'clock to me.

Lost Things

Oh, I could let the world go by, Its loud new wonders and its wars, But how will I give up the sky When winter dusk is set with stars?

And I could let the cities go, Their changing customs and their creeds,-- But oh, the summer rains that blow In silver on the jewel-weeds!

Pain

Waves are the sea's white daughters, And raindrops the children of rain, But why for my shimmering body Have I a mother like Pain?

Night is the mother of stars, And wind the mother of foam-- The world is brimming with beauty, But I must stay at home.

The Broken Field