Part 3 (1/2)

Take all of me, pour out my life as wine, To dye your soul's sweet shallows. Violent sin Blazed me a path, and I have walked therein, Strong, unashamed. Your timorous hands need mine, As the white stars their sky, your lips' pale line Shall blush to roses where my lips have been.

I ask no more. I do not hope to win-- Only to add myself to your design.

Take all of me. I know your little lies, Your light dishonor, gentle treacheries.

I know, I lie in torment at your feet, Shadow to all your sun. Take me and go, Use my adoring to your honor, sweet, Strength for your weakness--it is better so.

XXIII

_Aspiration_

I

The pale and misty particles of Time Hover about us; scarce our eyes can see Youth's far-off dream of what we were to be.

Life's truth, which once we would redeem with rhyme, Has proved instead a world-worn pantomime.

The running river of expediency Has drowned the hopes that Fortune held in fee-- Why fall upon the track so many climb?

Why strive to speak what all the earth has heard?

Why labor at a work the ages plan?-- Life has been lived so oft--an outworn thing!

Then hark! the time-sweet carol of a bird, New as a flower; and see--ah, shame to man!

The endless aspiration of the Spring.

XXIV

_Aspiration_

II

The full throat of the world is charged with song, Morning and twilight melt with ecstasy In the high heat of noon. Simply to be, Palpitant where the green spring forces throng, Eager for life, life unashamed and strong-- This is desire fulfilled. Exalted, free, The spirit gains her ether, scornfully Denies existence that is dark or wrong.

This is enough, to see the song begun Which shall be finished in some field afar.

Laugh that the night may still contain a star, Nor idly moan your impotence of grace.

Life is a song, lift up your care-free face Gladly and gratefully toward the sun.

XXV

_The Gypsy Blood_