TWO WORLDS

AND OTHER POEMS

TWO WORLDS

AND OTHER POEMS

PART I

TWO WORLDS

I THE VENUS OF MILO

GRACE, majesty, and the calm bliss of life;

No conscious war 'twixt human will and duty; Here breathes, forever free from pain and strife, The old, untroubled pagan world of beauty.

Of life, of death the mystery and woe,

Witness in this mute, carven stone the whole. That suffering smile were never fashioned so Before the world had wakened to a soul.

PART II

THE STAR IN THE CITY

As down the city street

I pass at the twilight hour,

'Mid the noise of wheels and hoofs

That grind on the stones, and beat;-
Upward, by spire and tower,
Over the chimneys and roofs
Climbs my glance to the skies,

And I see, with a glad surprise,
A mist with a core of light.

Slowly, as grows the night,-
As the sky turns blue from gray, —
Slowly it beams more bright,
And keeps with me on my way.

Soul of the twilight star

That leads me from afar,
Spirit that keener glows
As the daylight darker grows;
That leaps the chasm of blue

Where the cross-street thunders through,
And follows o'er roof and spire,
In the night-time soaring higher;
I know thee, and only I,
Thou comrade of the sky-
Star of the poet's heart,

The light and soul of his art.

MOONLIGHT

I

'TIS twelve o' the clock.

The town is still;

As gray as a rock

From gable to sill

Each cottage is standing.

The narrow street

(Where the tree-tops meet),

From the woods to the landing,

Is black with shadows;

The roofs are white,

And white are the meadows;

The harbor is bright.
Can this be night?

I CARE NOT IF THE SKIES ARE WHITE

II

'Tis twelve o' the clock.

The town is still;

As still as a stock

From harbor to hill.

The moon's broad marge

Has no stars near,

Far off how clear

They shine, how large!
Something is strange

In the air, in the light;
Come forth! Let us range
In the black, in the white,
Through the day-like night.

III

In the elm-trees all

No flutter, no twitter;

From the granite wall

The small stars glitter.

A filmy thread

My forehead brushes;
A meteor rushes
From green to red.
Naught is but the bliss

Of this dark, of this white,
Of these stars of this kiss,
O my Love and my Light
In the day and the night.

147

"I CARE NOT IF THE SKIES ARE WHITE"

I CARE not if the skies are white,

Nor if the fields are gold;