A Williams Anthology Part 21

"I hate the stone, I fear the water; I dread the grey, the moaning sea; I pray thee bid thy lady daughter To fetch some wine to me.

"For coldly, coldly, runs the tide; And all the foam is salt and strong; And here, athirst and cramped, I bide, And I have waited, waited long."

_Literary Monthly_, 1910.

OUT OF THE HARBOR

STANTON BUDINGTON LEEDS ex-'08

Across the breadth of many memoried years I catch a whiff of strong, salt air Light-hearted blowing of the gentle wind, And all the swaying of the sad and silent sea; On high a golden star, bright, peerless, free, In endless s.p.a.ce confined,-- And light as laughter 'gainst my cheek, star-lit with tears, A wavy lock of sweet brown hair.

The star wove silver webs across the ways Carved by the wind, a half-breathed sigh, That spoke in ripples. "O Heart's Delight,"

I cried, "The skiff comes for me now across the water."

And, as I bent to kiss her, Love's fair daughter, She barely breathed, "Good-night,"

And some musician blended Chopin with her phrase: "Good-bye, Love's youth, Youth's love, good-bye."

_Literary Monthly_, 1907.

SUCCESS

STANTON BUDINGTON LEEDS ex-'08

The deep, dark clouds are yonder ma.s.sed, And rain has drenched fields drear and dun, But o'er the farthest hills at last I see the sun!

_Literary Monthly_, 1905.

ON THE "CHANT D'AMOUR" OF BURNE-JONES

ROGER SHERMAN LOOMIS '09

Mysterious damozel in white, White like the swans that glide upon the pool below, Who art thou that with fingers light Playest upon those ivory keys such music low?

O winged youth in dreamful thought, With eyelids weighed with utter sweetness, who art thou, With garments by the breezes caught, Whose hands with drowsy motion ply the bellows now?

The youth and damsel answer not.

But thou, O listening knight-at-arms, thou mayest tell Who are these minstrels mild, and what The strains that here outside this quiet city swell.

The youth with languid moving wrist In puissance may with any of the G.o.ds compare; No marvel thou must stay and list, For 'tis the Song of Love breathes on the evening air.

Know by the calm her lips disclose, By the fine shades and faery l.u.s.tre of her eyes, The damsel is the queen of those Whose names are written Beatrice in Paradise.

While yon still towers in sunset lie, Her face oblivious of all else I'll ponder long.

My body thrills with ecstasy!

My heart beats with the rhythmic pulsing of the song!

_Literary Monthly_, 1906.

THE MANY ROADS

HORACE HOLLEY ex-'10

The north road, the south road, Highway, byway, There never was a road men trod That did not lead them home.

The east road, the west road, Your way, my way, Men's tangled footprints end in G.o.d, Through Arcady or Rome.

_Literary Monthly_, 1907.

BEAUTY

HORACE HOLLEY ex-'10

Her beauty lies upon her face As sunlight masks the barren sea; A fitful, accidental grace Which time shall ruin utterly.

Not like the Beauty all divine (The "house of G.o.d," the poet saith), Which is the craftsman-soul's design, Its majesty supreme in death.

_Literary Monthly_, 1908.

PREFERMENT AND THE FOOL

HORACE HOLLEY ex-'10

The Fool was sitting by his half-built sod house. This was the season of building, for the sun shone; and moreover presently would come the bitter unending rain of winter, when it were better to be abiding safely at home. Nevertheless the Fool sat happily idle, for he never _could_ get enough of the suns.h.i.+ne, though he rose with the sun in the morning and wistfully watched it set at night. Now he was twirling a dandelion between thumb and finger, and gazing out across the valley to the running hills of the north country. It so happened that the Fool's house was on a cross-road, and presently, as he was a-sitting at his ease, along came the King of that land, with a great cavalcade of soldiers and retainers. And because on their brazen s.h.i.+elds and helmets the sun was reflected more brightly than from yonder peak, the Fool turned to gaze at them as they wound past. In sooth, had it not been for that, he would never have given them a glance at all, not having much curiosity about the things other people love to gape at.

Beside the King rode the King's Favorite, a very goodly man, one who was closest of all to the King's ear and heart. Plainly enough could the Fool see, even though he was only dreamily a-looking, a bright golden figure seated upon the saddle with the King's Favorite. This, as all men know, was Preferment, and a sudden wistful longing seized upon the Fool's heart, that he had never known the like of since the time he had cried for the moon. His jaw dropped, and his eyes grew misty. In a little while the troop was by, gone around the hill, but the Fool could not forget them, and many new desires tugged at his heart.