Part 3 (2/2)

”_Oh mother, the berries I ate in the lane Have left a stain._”

Back she came through the faltering dusk; And her mother spoke and said: ”You are weeping; your footstep is heavy with care-- What makes you totter and cling to the stair, And why do you hang your head?”

”_Oh mother--oh mother--you never can know-- I loved him so!_”

IN THE STREETS

Boy, my boy, it is lonely in the city, Days that have no pity and the nights without a tear Follow all too slowly and I can no more dissemble; I am frightened and I tremble--and I would that you were here.

Oh boy--G.o.d keep you.

Boy, my boy, I had sworn to weep no longer.

Time I thought was stronger than the evenings long gone by; The ardent looks, the eager hands, the whispers hot and hurried-- But they all come back unburied and not one of them will die.

Oh boy--G.o.d save you.

Boy, my boy, you were bold with youth and power; Your love was like a flower that you wore upon your sleeve.

And wherever you may go there'll be a girl with eyes that glisten; A girl to watch and listen, and a girl for you to leave.

Oh boy--G.o.d help her!

ENVY

The willow and the river Ripple with silver speech, And one refrain forever They murmur each to each:

”Brook with the silver gravel, Would that your lot were mine; To wander free, to travel Where greener valleys s.h.i.+ne-- Strange ventures, fresh revealings, And, at the end--the sea!

Brook, with your turns and wheelings, How rich your life must be.”

”Tree with the golden rustling, Would that I were so blessed, To cease this stumbling, jostling, This feverish unrest.

I join the ocean's riot; You stand song-filled--and free!

Tree, with your peace and quiet, How rich your life must be.”

_The willow and the river Ripple with silver speech, And one refrain forever They murmur each to each._

A BIRTHDAY

Again I come With my handful of Song-- With my trumpery gift tricked out and made showy with rhyme.

It is Spring, and the time When your thoughts are long; When the blossoming world in its confident prime Whispers and wakens imperative dreams; When you color and start With the airiest schemes And the laughter of children is stirring your heart...

With all of these voices that rise to restore you To gladness again, With your heart full of things that sing and adore you, I come with my strain-- I come with my tinkling that patters like rain On a rickety pane; With a jingle of words and old tunes which have long Done duty in song; Spreading my verse, like a showman, before you...

And you turn to the world, as you turn to the bosom that bore you.

In all this singing at your heart, In all this ringing through the day, In the bravado of the May I have no part....

For I am not one with the conquering year That wakes without fear The lyrical souls of the feathery throng, That flames in the heavens when evenings are long; That surges with power and urges with cheer The boldness of love, the laugh of the strong, And the confident song...

<script>