14
The twigs tinge the winter sky
brown.
15
A slender tree, alone in the fields,
between the roofs of the town and the woods like a low hill.
In the open
the birds are faintly heard.
16
August
The city breaks in houses to the sea, uneasy with waves.
In the streets truck-horses, muscles sliding under the steaming hides,
pound the sparks flying about their hoofs.
17
In the streets children beneath tall houses at games greedily
remembering clocks, the house-cats lapping time.
18
Kitten, pressed into a rude shape by cart-wheels,
an end to your slinking away and trying to hide behind ash-cans.
19
The baby woke with curved, confiding fingers.
The gas has been turned down until it was only a yellow glimmer.
A rat walked slowly from under the washtub.
20
Ships dragged under the opaque green of the sea,
visible winds flinging houses apart—
and here the poplar roots lifting the pavement an inch.
21
Speaking and speaking again words like silver bubbles,
we walk at dusk through rain.
The sky has grown black with a tinge of red from the street-lamps;
triangular pools form in the square cracks of the pavement,
noisy with rain.
22
Suddenly we noticed that we were in darkness;
so we went into the house and lit the lamp.
The talk fell apart and bit by bit slid into a lake.
At last we rose and bidding each other good night went to our rooms.
In and about the darkness lay, a black fog;
and each on his bed spoke to himself alone, making no sound.
23
Hour after hour in a rocking-chair on the porch,
hearing the wind in the shade trees.
At times a storm comes up and the dust is blown in long curves along the street,
over the carts driven slowly, drivers and horses nodding.
Years are thrown away as if I were immortal,
the nights spent in talking
shining words, sometimes, like fireflies in the darkness—
lighting and going out and after all no light.
24
I walked in a street, head high,
when a thug began beating a passer-by.
I gave no help with blow or cry,
but hurried on glad it wasn’t I.
25
Aphrodite Vrania
The ceaseless weaving of the uneven water.
26
Moonlit Night
The trees’ shadows lie in black pools on the lawns.
27
April
The stiff lines of the twigs
blurred by buds.
28
I have watched trees and the moon and walked on—
she would be beauty to go wherever I go.
29
Still much to read, but too late.
I turn out the light.
The leaves of the tree are green beside the street-lamp;
the wind hardly blows and the tree makes no noise.
Tomorrow up early,
the crowded street-car, the factory.
30
A clerk tiptoeing the office floor
in a flurry of insignificant stuff;
or with samples from store to store
to speak politely to the gruff,
entering timidly the door,
trying to bow and smile it right
with smiles seen not true enough,
a young man who was so bright.
They spoke proudly and well,
fearing and revering none,
had no longing to buy and sell
or chatter with girls half the night;
what at last have these men done,
the young men who were so bright?