Poems
Mullins, Helene & Ritter, Margar Tod & chandler, E.W & Glildea, S. Bert Cooksy. John Rose & Collins, Joseph Kinney
August i8, I9z6 THE COMMONWEAL 367 POEM S Villanelle of a Sad...
...Sir Launcelot forgets the lily maid...
...MARGARET TOD RITTER...
...I who would be dancing Vainly is dream on dream of beauty laid...
...Of Him...
...Lest the growing fledglings Never learn a note...
...I go forth sedately, The grave-tools have been gathered, and await...
...Soberly must go Teaching little children Who is there now to go, in bright brocade, Things I do not know...
...What can be given to one by love betrayed...
...Over seas uncharted Vainly is dream on dream of beauty laid...
...Waiting . . . Much as you and I that long night Molding the frozen marble of her face Waited . . . one at his left, one at his right...
...I who would be dreaming In snow-white garb the ground should be arrayed, Must steer with watchful eye Mourning with her who mourns a bitter fate...
...Must discipline my throat Sir Launcelot forgets the lily maid...
...Singing like one born gay and fortunate...
...E. W. CHANDLER...
...where they No maxim was too stern for us to say, Gathered them in and stared at the pale head No truth too fierce-and still she would not move 1 And took great gulps of rich wine from the clay Day after day, immobile, vigilant, She stood against the window, lost in pain, Jugs at their feet . . . Out across a gaunt sky And we who had been harsh were supplicant- Are bald clouds...
...The black Simon and the white Christ...
...Sir Launcelot forgets the lily maid...
...Hold, 0 heart, your laughter Lest I perish here...
...A Poem A poem is a lovely thing, Poplars A fairy's wing, Aswing...
...Struck into hopeless silence toward the last, We watched the frail flag lowered from the mast...
...JOSEPH KINNEY COLLINS...
...In the silence of the night, Like a holy candle's light...
...Where grim perils lie...
...S. BERT COOKSLEY...
...A poem is a merest whim, Are you whispering the Name, A gesture dimLike the candle's timid flame...
...Vainly is dream on dream of beauty laid...
...The Return HELENE MULLINS...
...Summer's own passion is inadequate...
...westward the sun's eye, Spent bit by bit with grief she let us place Sick with weariness, trembles listlessly . . . Cushions whereon she knelt in meager ease...
...August i8, I9z6 THE COMMONWEAL 367 POEM S Villanelle of a Sad Summer Changeling Vainly is dream on dream of beauty laid, I who would be singing Shalott is doomed, Shalott is desolate...
...From the mute earth...
...There are wild goats here, and a loneliness That is unkind . . . Once she flung herself down With a fierceness at his feet, her coarse dress Ordeal by Fire Crumpled beneath her, sobbing in her brown At first we tried to make her come away, Hair . . . Desolate loneliness where they led Using the rough brutality of love...
...grasses start them nervously Yet all that could be said was said in vain...
...A parent wise, austereSir Launcelot forgets the lily maid...
...No one shall notice, if the gardens fade, Nor care if winter clamors at the gate...
...Sorrow has found a new heart to invade...
...JOHN ROSE GILDEA...
...Slim poplars, cutting the night In the pale moon's dusky light, A poem mourns its briefsome life, Is this gentle swaying Its futile strifeYour own way of praying A fife...
...Was brief and lovely gratitude for these...
Vol. 4 • August 1926 • No. 15
