Poems
MacLean, Katharine Allison & Avery, Claribel Weeks & Zabel, Morton & Parmenter, Catherine & Claudel, Paul & Haley, Molly Anderson
523 POEMS Seventh Station 'Tis not the stones that conquer now, nor the knotted flails; It is the soul that falters here, it is the soul that fails. O midway of our mortal life when the strong...
...Beyond the cloud-veiled challenge of the sky You reach the gates of heaven itself—and lo...
...Wear like a soldier's cloak your old gay manner, Nor ever let surrender be your choice...
...You would not have this earth on which we stand Go, blind and staggering, down the purple void...
...Molly Anderson Haley...
...Lord of the wind, your weary requiem sing— Scarce heard amid the triumph-song of spring...
...Translated by Henry Morton Robinson...
...Beware, lest secret serpents lift Their sudden tongues of death...
...Years must not loose the warm clasp of your fingers, With all the ripened richness of old wine The spirit strengthens, and the beauty lingers Of finished pattern and fulfilled design...
...Morton Zabel...
...In this strange universe, where all decays, Gods die, as well as men...
...To One Growing Old Oh, never droop your beautiful proud banner, And do not mute the challenge in your voice...
...Unmarred by flaw of surfeit or regretting, Each one clear-cut, a perfect thing alone, Across the steadfast blue of unforgetting March those white hours your heart and mine have known...
...Man dies, and few are saddened or undone...
...There is a fear beneath your cruel smile...
...Always I see a glad procession wending Its stately way on cup and plate and bowl, Moving as if to music, and extending Clusters of joy to feast my hungry soul...
...March Arrogant charlatan!—your icy breath Makes earth surrender but a little while...
...Your poised, disdainful shoulders rise From passions woven in your shawl...
...Exulting in your strength, you dare defy The universe—the tempest-haunted seas, The snow-wrapt hills, the torn and twisted trees...
...Grown, with a touch of God's own wisdom, wise, Look on at life, savor the whole great story, And never tame the eagle in your eyes...
...There is a tremor when you laugh at death...
...You sit enfolded in my gift, Quite disenchanted, calm of breath...
...Paul Claudel...
...Catherine Parmenter...
...O midway of our mortal life when the strong soul is spent, When the compass loses its polar star and faith its firmament, Because the flinty road is long, the steep climb without end, We seem to sink, abandoned by every hope and friend...
...Wedgwood Though in the humblest room life spreads my table, And sets before me routine's coarsest food, Yet served from memory's Wedgwood I am able To bow my head in grace and count it good...
...Yours now to sense the power and the glory...
...Some gypsy's fingers found relief Engarlanding this hissing silk, Who drank the bitter wine of grief When you were fed on bread and milk...
...unvanquished, leave The old scarred field, and let time wrap about you A calm as lovely as a summer's eve...
...Humbled and hesitant, you stand without, Clad in the mocking remnants of the snow...
...Only in one small home, the light grows dim...
...Your swift-eyed prudence was not meant To go disguised in Spanish art...
...The jaded body falls, ah yes, but not till the tired will stumbles— Save us, Lord, from this second fall when the weary spirit crumbles...
...Claribel Weeks Avery...
...Katharine Allison MacLean...
...Borne down by secret self-disgust and the cross's cruel weight We fall at last, not on our knees in supplicating prayer, But wretchedly, face downward, in agonized despair...
...A god that dies takes planet, world and sun Into the dark with him...
...Such quietude repels your pagan shout...
...O lengthening years of weariness, inflexible cold fate...
...You were a fighter always, none will doubt you, Honorable peace is yours...
...Then drop that poisoned javelin from your hand Before you slay its god...
...Dark Stars Whence come these darkened stars that block the rays From true stars, now and then...
...Decoration : Girl With Shawl In your keen purposes chastise The lazy tongue's betraying drawl...
...Upon these snarled festoons were spent The fevers of a wounded heart...
Vol. 5 • March 1927 • No. 19
