Part 17 (1/2)

And there in dread of eyes we stood Scanning the bluff and the beach, Lest in the briefest touch of lips We might be seen.

For there were eyes, or we thought There were eyes, on the porch of the lodge, And eyes along the forest's rim on the hill, And eyes on the sh.o.r.e.

But a minute past there was no sun, Only a star that shone like a match which lights To a blue intenseness amid the glow of a hearth.

And we sat on the sand as dusk came down In a communion of silence and low words.

Till you said at last: ”We'll sup at the lodge, Then say good night to me and leave As if to stay overnight in the village.

But instead make a long detour through the wood And come to the sh.o.r.e through that ravine, Be here at the tent at midnight.”

And so I did.

I stole through echoless ways, Where no twigs broke and where I heard My heart beat like a watch under a pillow.

And the whippoorwills were singing.

And the sound of the surf below me Was the sound of silver-poplar leaves In a wind that makes no pause....

I hurried down the steep ravine, And a bat flew up at my feet from the brush And crossed the moon.

To my left was the lighthouse, And black and deep purples far away, And all was still.

Till I stood breathless by the tent And heard your whispered welcome, And felt your kiss.

Lovers lay at mid-night On roofs of Memphis and Athens And looked at tropical stars As large as golden beetles.

Nothing is new, save this, And this is always new.

And there in your tent With the balm of the mid-night breeze Sweeping over us, We looked at one great star Through a flap of your many-colored tent, And the eternal quality of rapture And mystery and vision flowed through us.

Next day we went to Grand Haven, For my desire was your desire, Whatever wish one had the other had.

And up the Grand River we rowed, With rushes and lily pads about us, And the sand hills back of us, Till we came to a quiet land, A lotus place of farms and meadows.

And we tied our boat to Schmitty's dock, Where we had a dinner of fish.

And where, after resting, to follow your will We drifted back to Spring Lake-- And under a larger moon, Now almost full, Walked three miles to The Beeches, By a winding country road, Where we had supper.

And afterwards a long sleep, Waking to the song of robins.

And that day I said: There are wild places, blue water, pine forests, There are apple orchards, and wonderful roads Around Elk Lake--shall we go?

And we went, for your desire was mine.

And there we climbed hills, And ate apples along the shaded ways, And rolled great boulders down the steeps To watch them splash in the water.

And we stood and wondered what was beyond The farther sh.o.r.e two miles away.

And we came to a place on the sh.o.r.e Where four great pine trees stood, And underneath them wild flowers to the edge Of sand so soft for naked feet.

And here, for not a soul was near, We stripped and swam far out, laughing, rejoicing, Rolling and diving in those great depths Of bracing water under a glittering sun.

There were farm houses enough For food and shelter.

But something urged us on.

One knows the end and dreads the end Yet seeks the end.

And you asked, ”Is there a town near?

Let's see a town.”

So we walked to Traverse City Through cut-over land and blasted Trunks and stumps of pine, And by the side of desolate hills.

But when we got to Traverse City You were not content, nor was I.

Something urged us on.

Then you thought of Northport And of its Norse and German fishermen, And its quaint piers where they smoke fish.

So we drove for thirty miles In a speeding automobile Over hills, around sudden curves, into warm coverts, Or hollows, sometimes at the edge of the Bay, Again on the hill, From where we could see Old Mission Amid blues and blacks, across a score of miles of the Bay, Waving like watered silk under the moon!

And by meadows of clover newly cut, And by peach orchards and vineyards.

But when we came to the little town Already asleep, though it was but eight o'clock, And only a few drowsy lamps With misty eyelids shone from a store or two, I said, ”Do you see those twinkling lights?

That's Northport Point, that's the Cedar Cabin-- Let's go to the Cedar Cabin.”

And so we crossed the Bay Amid great waves in a plunging launch, And a roaring breeze and a great moon, For now the moon was full.

So here was the Cedar Cabin On a strip of land as wide as a house and lawn, And on one side Lake Michigan, And on one side the Bay.