Poems
Davies, Mary Carolyn & Kresensky, Raymond & O'Donnell, Charles L. & Maynard, Theodore & Ray, Louise Crenshaw & Case, Elizabeth
February 2, I927 T H E C O M M O N W E A L 357 I POEMS To a Reader of Old Books Oh, seek Him not in dusty scrolls And mouldered histories. No charact'ry of theirs extols These Mysteries,...
...THEODORE MAYNARD...
...He is not here--but risen...
...Then shall the Holy Ghost Disclose thee Him...
...CHARLES L. O'DoNNELL...
...February 2, I927 T H E C O M M O N W E A L 357 I POEMS To a Reader of Old Books Oh, seek Him not in dusty scrolls And mouldered histories...
...of Arc Where her strange two-pronged sword and bright hair were Courage and truth and honor rode with her...
...II Chinese Temple Gate Across dim western hills, the sunset rays With lingering, Midas touch are mellowing The great red temple gates...
...What hidden cargo do you hear From templed dties, walled and old ? Rich robes for mandarins to wear ? Lacquer, or teakwood rarely carved, Or tea which flowering hills supply...
...Bare, hesitant feet they hardly dare To leave the spots of green But, dancing high, they do not care--They miss the snow between...
...Philosophies cannot enslave Nor histories prison The Cradled Child, the Cross, the Host...
...For lo, the Holy Ghost Rolls stone from cave...
...LOUISE CRENSHAW RAY...
...An aged priest whose face Is etched with countless vigils and with toil, Draws up the massive, stone-wheeled doors in place...
...Bid him delay a little yet Till dust has had time to forget, Then let him come, his old imperious passion Twisting the grasses to his fashion Wherever one may lie...
...Only the Holy Ghost Instructeth souls...
...Uespera/ Let not a day with the west wind blowing Witness my going: I should be desolate, swept away Out of his wild, sweet day And his sky, his flying sky...
...Oh, pray to see The Cradled Child, the Cross, the Host...
...rom Chinese Prints I Towing a River Junk Your sails like outspread condor wings Loom dark on skies of pearly hue, As coolies strain upon great ropes Whose pungent scent is sharp as rue When mighty hawsers dip and sag...
...Nay, come, adore at Bethlehem And mourn at Calvary...
...But Joan still calls our souls to windy wars...
...No charact'ry of theirs extols These Mysteries, The Cradled Child, the Cross, the Host...
...ELIZABETH CASE...
...RAYMOND KRESENSKY...
...Crows flit about Dark, aromatic cedars, old as spring...
...Oh, seek Him not at empty grave...
...Closed and immutable are they . . . Like ancient, mystical Cathay...
...MARY CAROLYN DAVIES...
...For that she is lovelier in memory Than maids far lovelier can ever be...
...Joa...
...Taste the Bread of Jerusalem...
...Where some old hag goes stumbling now With heavy feet along, Bare little feet go telling how The world might dance a song...
...Shy and austere To those who hold you very dear, Strike once again, Beauty, and heal me of my pain...
...Drip steadily on, Rain, upon the cold wet stone-- Cold heart, but sweet The stepping of your icy feet...
...ancing High Because of little spots of green Behind the piles of snow, I said that here, where winter's been, The feet of dancers go...
...You make no answer . . . Did I hear A woman's faint, despairing cry...
...Guinevere, and Iseult of Brittany, And Helen for whose sake men rode the sea-- Long stilled are their wild hearts with all their scars...
...And magpies stab the quiet dusk with their Shrill chattering...
Vol. 5 • February 1927 • No. 13
