Poems
O'Donnell, Charles L. & Foley, Virginia & Phlegar, Thelma & Haley, Molly Anderson & Case, Elizabeth & Ryan, Kathryn White
467 POEMS Quietness I would kiss the hand of Quietness, Like some white flower; fingertips as cool As carved white jade upon my burning wrist; Peaceful as lilies in an opal pool Of beauty...
...For you the art Oi packing deadliness in one swift dart Came by long practice till your hand had grown So sure of touch and aim you dared, alone, Defy a hostile world with dauntless heart...
...Peaceful as lilies in an opal pool Of beauty that would break my song Into a cry star-wide, heart-long...
...For, thou not with me, I was deaf indeed And all the music-makers smitten dumb...
...The disembodied wind clutches at all Things that have body...
...zArrow-Heads This draws us close whose times lie far apart, This keenly chiseled triangle of stone Found in my quiet garden, once your own Untrammeled hunting-ground...
...Elizabeth Case...
...Down the dumb aisles of song the choirs came— O Salutaris Hostia...
...it goes Invisible, and beats against the seas, Being troubled by the coloring of water And the long-armed ocean-trees...
...No body was made to hold the wind...
...No music in my ears my heart would heed...
...Charles L. O'Donnell...
...The Subway Unpadfied, life Rushes, shakes To brief arrivals, Brief intakes...
...Not the plucked viol nor yet the stricken drum Could make again my muted heart-strings hum...
...Like a silver reed The great wind bends the long straight waterfall...
...The bars Of heaven fell, and beauty's altar fed A singing soul with sacramental bread...
...The Architect of Beauty heard thy name And His cathedral rose against the stars...
...Thelma Phlegar...
...Wind Song The wind cries through the day and through the dark...
...Blue night is lost, Rose day is waste...
...Infinite Lover, my own, I have torn the heavens apart, Like rose-leaves piled at my feet the stars lie, numberless, vast, Vesper and Venus and Mars have told their tale to my heart— "He loves me" is always the first, "He loves me" is always the last...
...Virginia Foley...
...Stagnation too Sits down or stands: In aimless eyes, In halted hands...
...I would be a friend of Quietness And rest my head upon her silken knees, While in and out her limpid voice would weave Throughout the wind's wild hair strange melodies, That I might learn how love may be Forgotten in eternity...
...Across the years I reach my hand to you, My fellow-craftsman, pledge you by your skill To meet the challenge you pass on to me, Learn of the flint of truth to fashion, too, Words with sharp edges, passion-winged to kill, My slinking jungle-foe, hypocrisy...
...I would bend my knee to Quietness And offer her the jewel of my desire So she might be caparisoned for death That watches from her eyes with passional fire To burn my eyelids down and keep Me safe in silver-shadowed sleep...
...Kathryn White Ryan...
...uilone at a Concert I heard no melody in brass or reed...
...The glare, the dark Flash haste, haste, haste...
...Conclusions Petal by petal I plucked the stars from the rose of the sky, Like a swain in the garden of love playing an old, fond game— "She loves me," he breathes with delight, "She loves me not," with a sigh, As he strips the leaves from the rose to the music of her name...
...But to my dearth did swift deliverance come: I thought of thee—the thought sufficed my need...
...Molly Anderson Haley...
...From place to place From deed to deed The sterile valley Screams with speed...
Vol. 5 • March 1927 • No. 17
