Fires of Driftwood - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"And the answer?"
"I have seen others find What I sought."
"I don't know that it's anyone's business Why I came,"
(Another spoke as if unwillingly), "A girl laughed, I think-- Funny?--Yes, funny as h.e.l.l!"--
His neighbor said, "I was a business man, No sentiment, Nothing of that kind,-- But the band played And, suddenly, I saw My country, A woman, with hands outstretched, Her back to the wall--"
"U--um," they nodded, "She's got a pull, That old lady."
"As for me," the speaker was abrupt, "I was afraid!
I saw pictures, I heard things-- I couldn't sleep For the Beast that was abroad-- Fear!
That's what brought me!"
They sat silent for a moment In the sun.
Then an older man said briefly, "We were all afraid . . . . .
. . . But what of hate?
Did no one come because of hate?"
"Yes--I"-- They looked at this man Curiously, But he added nothing, And no one questioned.
A fresh-faced boy spoke modestly; "Our family are all Army people-- So, of course-- And it's all over now.
We got through.
But it was a near thing-- What?"
To-Day
TO-DAY is a room With windows upon one side And upon the other A door-- Through the windows we may look But cannot pa.s.s; Through the door we must pa.s.s But cannot look, And there are no windows Upon that side.
Memory
A YEAR is a thief Who comes in the guise of a friend Saying, "Let us travel together, We have much to give each other.
See, I hold back nothing-- For what is giving Between friends?"
Yet when the year departs He takes his gifts with him-- "Oh, Robber!" we cry, Aghast and weeping, "Nay," he replies, "I did but lend.
Still, for your weeping, I will leave you something.
It is not the real thing But you may keep it always."
Dream
I SEE a spirit Young and eager, Beautiful, too, I think, (Although I cannot see it clearly) It is, by right of its own being, One with all lovely, youthful things; And they, its age-old kindred, Welcome it Saying, "Come, you too are one of us!"
This spirit is my own happy ghost-- But I, myself,--alas!
Perhaps
THERE was a man, once, and a woman Whose love was so entire That an angel, watching them, Said wistfully, "Would I were no angel But a mortal, Loving so, and so beloved!"
. . . . Yet, when these two mated, A muddied drop, from some forgotten vial of ancestry, Brought them a child whose mind was dark; Who lived--and never called them by their names . . .
. . . . They tended her For twenty years.
Only when she died Did they weep, whispering, "Why?"
The years could find no answer, Though they went questioning Until the end.
Still wondering They wandered out into the other country . . . .
It was lonely there, Being parted from familiar things, And there was no one to answer questions, But, suddenly, (As a wind blows or a swallow flies against the sun) Came a young girl--eager!
She ran to them, Calling dear names, (Names that would open heaven) "Who are you?" they entreated, trembling . . . .
But they knew!-- Had they not dreamed her so For twenty years?
Glamour
THE knowledge of love Is like sudden sun upon a river-- The slipping water Is instantly opaque and glorious.
No longer can we look into it Counting the pebbles, Watching the ribboned water-reeds, Or searching idly For that something which we lost (A ring with gems) It is all glamour, now!
We turn away, shading our eyes.