I SAW A THOUGHT BY VIRGINIA MOORE I I shall not fear the face of God, And most magnificently odd; I shall but lean against a star And grasp at rails where meteors are, Being a little overwrought But not from God, nor hell, nor heaven, For what are these to me riven By the sight of one man's thought? II I saw a thought rise in a man For cruel and white beauty! That made our days of living Great pearls of price To be thrown and scattered in thorns and mold. The Mother of the Snows, Whose Son was God, Lives her everlasting death And dies her everlasting life, And she is frail and white and very fair. Men have loved the thorns within her hair The day, And said to sunshine, "Go thy way." And the children of their brains, Joy, peace, and ease, And the children of their loins Who might have climbed their knees They have left unborn For the cruelest loveliness And the Rose of bitterest thorn, For the Kiss that scars and sears, And walked the way of Francis and of tears. Glory and praise To the cruel beauty that has taught us To tread thorns, To the women who have taught us To wear crowns! They have made the midnight blossom They have reared us temples, towers, Faith, and wars. They have given us oath and hymn, They have shaped and fashioned for us MY BABIES ASLEEP BY ROBERT P. TRISTRAM COFFIN April Patience sleeps like dew Or opal clouds the moon comes through, All gentle, tender things, and blue Cricket songs, roses damp and new. July Glory sleeps like dawn Fiercely eastern hills upon; Her hands are gripped in dreamful zest, Into a flaming phoenix' nest Tightly and hotly; Albrecht Dürer might have etched them. She is all spices, Troy's old stress, And Helen's terrific tenderness. January Fire yearns Like clean, clear youths on Grecian urns; Heat and cold and mystery Deeper than the midmost sea. He is the flame of icicles More splendid than the sunlight is, Should he melt to running laughter. He is the promise mornings are And the dewy, breathless morning star. |