Sonnets
Thayer, Mary Dixon & Morton, David & Whitcomb, Gertrude Ryder Bennett, Selden Lincoln & Ritter, Margaret Tod & Mason, Francis
J^antasy Rain in the lilacs, now—yet this has seemed Less like a summer than a dream of summer; And this wide, scented dusk, likel something dreamed. Returns about one ghostly later-comer Who...
...But in the davm with you upon the hills I walked, O day, and your fair hair, unbound...
...With stinging blow The taut string snapped beneath the moving bow...
...And I must wait...
...3l:Coroscope He shall be bom tomorrow who will grope These arid cavems out to grasp a sun, Chase frantic comets down this hollow slope Of night, and leash fiercei orbits to the run Of logarithmic cables, who will bear His quest too near the outer verge of sight...
...Now is the hour of silence...
...The rain has freed the lilacs of a scent Too like the soul of other summers, here...
...SELDEN LINCOLN WHITCOMB...
...To a Day Lean back, O day, upon the breast of night...
...The Funeral Procession A year ago the Grizzly's captain wed A village girl...
...Tranced Legato Last night I dreamed that you were dead: I stood Looking at water flowing past a gate, You leaned beside me whistling...
...We often watched her on the deck, and said: "A rarely happy woman, so denote Those steady eyes, calm hands, and singing throat...
...Leaning against your tomb, fiddle to chin, I struck the first long note...
...No one wiU find them there...
...Then I shall wear These dreams of mine—but now it cannot be...
...If I could play Fugue or concerto on a single string ? (Oh, centuries I stood there bargaining For you, till death consented to repay...
...To dream this pain and wake to find it true...
...Her fingers lingered wistfully, while she Said half aloud, "Some day and I shall dare To turn this lock again...
...MARGARET TOD RITTER...
...DAVID MORTON...
...Then fold your pale, sweet hands, O day, and close Your eyes and rest, nor fear lest anything Disturb the quiet depth of your repose, For from this sleep there is no wakening...
...Upon the chest the idle years shed dust...
...Deep, merciful oblivion rushed in...
...Nevermore Her greeting gesture, song, or sudden smile...
...Glide slowly down the channel, single file, (The comets piping, "Nearer, my God, to Thee") And vanish round the island...
...From near her heart She drew the key...
...And they shall find him ashy-templed, stark, His ceiling riddled with the cosmic glare...
...As the Grizzly hails its harbor from the sea...
...Panic shall strike him at his polished glasses Midway between pale morning and the dark, Miring his feet in nebular morasses...
...Now delight And sadness touch, and bow their heads, and weep...
...their home his fishing boat— By day, by night together and afloat...
...GERTRUDE RYDER BENNETT...
...Crowded the formless walls of sleep, withdrew...
...Yet I remember . . . once you paused, and said, "Will you forget me, youth, when I am dead...
...The hinges groaned with rust...
...Was sunlight in the wind, and daffodils Started beneath your footprint on the ground...
...iAspiration Her dreams she folded, smoothed, and packed with care...
...Returns about one ghostly later-comer Who is not I at all, but one who strays Back through a twilight that is old and dim With earlier shapes that wander later days, And all but touch and all but speak to him...
...Then came the word, "The captain's wife is dead...
...How he would laugh at me And at my dreams...
...And close your dreaming eyes, and sleep . . . ah, sleep...
...Trembling and sweet with all that they had meant For two, returning now, so very near Their whisper stirs this dark, their eager word, Sensed in these haunted airs, is all but heard...
...FRANCIS MASON...
...Lusting for planet beauties, who will wear Sky-triumphs like a crown of thorny light...
...She took her dreams, now bold and unafraid ; But at her touch they crumbled all apart...
...One day she climbed the stair...
...It is late," You said, and raised the latch...
...MARY DIXON THAYER...
...Madness like star-fingers in his hair...
...An awful flood Broke in and covered you...
...Then closed the lid and turned the heavy key...
...The stately fishing vessels, near a score...
...In harbor, or far off by Salmon Head...
...And over it fat spiders plied their trade...
Vol. 6 • June 1927 • No. 4
