Chapter V: Moon-Glow

I wonder if, dim centuries ago,
We watched the moon together, on some night
When stars hung very near, and softly bright?
I wonder if my tired head drooped low
Against your breast? And if you seemed to know
(As you know now) the dreams that, like a light,
Shone in my soul? For, dear, it seems so right--
So very right that you should hold me so!

Here, in the moonlight, there is nothing new,
The very arms that crush me to your heart,
Seem almost like a memory, a part
Of some vague yesterday that has come true--
I feel tonight as if I, dear, might start
A journey back, across the years, with you!

FORGIVEN

You left me when the weary weight of sorrow
Lay, like a stone, upon my bursting heart;
It seemed as if no shimmering tomorrow
Could dry the tears that you had caused to start.
You left me, never telling why you wandered--
Without a word, without a last caress;
Left me with but the love that I had squandered,
The husks of love and a vast loneliness.

And yet if you came back with arms stretched toward
me,
Came back to-night, with carefree, smiling eyes,
And said: "My journeying has somehow bored me,
And love, though broken, never, never dies!"
I would forget the wounded heart you gave me,
I would forget the bruises on my soul.
My old-time gods would rise again to save me,
My dreams would grow supremely new and whole.
What though youth lay, a tattered garment, o'er you?
Warm words would leap upon my lips, long dumb;
If you came back, with arms stretched out before
you,
AND TOLD ME, DEAR, THAT YOU WERE GLAD TO COME!

THE WRITING

Sometimes a mist of sunlight across a stranger's hair,
Sometimes the vague expression upon a stranger's
face,
Can make me feel your presence--can fill a lonely
place
With dreams of life half realized. Faint music
through the air
Can make me hear your foot-fall, again, upon the
stair--
Sometimes a dancer moving with quite unconscious
grace,
Can make my pulse beat faster; and for a breathless
space
Can make me turn, expecting to find you standing
there!

You have not gone! The passing of every empty
day
Has only brought you nearer. Those things that
were a part
Of all we planned together are bits of you that stay,
To bruise my soul as sharply as any flame-tipped
dart.
Ah, time may hold its healing--but years that pass
away
Cannot erase the writing you traced upon my
heart!

AT PARTING

Love of my life, the time has come for parting--
For, dearest, I must leave you while we care!
Leave you while tears of vain regret are starting,
While I can look at you and find you fair.
Could we endure a morn of bitter waking,
Could we accept a love that would seem less?
Dear, I must go the while my heart is breaking--
Go while my world is filled with happiness.

Love of my soul, our dream has been so flaming,
That, if we waited, it might smoulder down--
Leaving dead ashes only, ashes shaming
All that was vivid--ashes dimly brown.
We will have memories as sweet as flowers,
We who have left, untouched, Fate's cup of woe;
Kiss me once more to bridge life's aching hours--
Love of my heart--the time has come to go!

WHEN I AM OLD--

When I am old and drenched in worlds of sadness,
And wear a lacy cap upon my head;
When, looking past the future's singing gladness,
I linger, wistful, in the years long dead.
When I am old, and young folk all about me,
Speak softly of religion, WHEN THEY SPEAK,
When parties are a grand success without me;
And when my laugh is fluttering and weak--

Will I then be content to raise my glances,
Serenely to the cloud-entangled sky?
And will I be content to watch at dances,
Without a heartbreak, as the hours pass by?
Or when I see young lovers' fingers twine,
WILL I REMEMBER, DEAR, YOUR LIPS ON MINE?

THE REFUGE

We hurried, once, down the purple road,
When a storm hung low in the sky;
And we gained the door of Love's abode
As the silver rain flashed by.
Our steps rang out as we crossed the sill,
And the place was dimly bright,
And even our hearts seemed strangely still,
While our searching hands clasped tight.

We waited there while the wind moaned past
And the thunder crashed in the air;
And the door of Love's abode blew fast,
But we didn't know--or care!
For we heard a song in the driving rain,
And the sky seemed warmly gray;
And the tempest rang with a mad refrain,
And the world seemed years away.
. . . . . . . . .

We have wandered far from the road of dreams,
We have crept from the house of love;
And the scorching sun of the noonday gleams
From the pitiless sky above.
But once, ah, once--in that dusky place,
When the lightning flashed through the air,
I saw its flame on your upturned face,
And its glow on your vivid hair.

We have strayed away--we have strayed away--
For the world is all too wide....
But once I came through the stormy day,
And you walked, proud, at my side.
AND, OH, FOR THE FEEL OF THE RAIN AGAIN,
AND, OH, FOR THE PURPLE ROAD,
AND, OH, FOR THE JOY AND THE PAIN AGAIN,
THAT WE KNEW IN LOVE'S ABODE!

TO DREAM ALONE....

How long the days may seem, how long each night,
(And yet, how short the evenings used to be!)
How strange it is that I can never see,
Warm pictures in the hearth that glows so bright.
We used to watch the laughing firelight,
And build dream castles in it--Ah, but we
Built castles everywhere! And now the sea
Is swept between us. You have gone to fight.

And I--I wait and try to dream alone,
And try to smile, to dance and laugh and sing;
And, somehow, cannot think of anything,
But just the thrilling roughness of your tone,
The light that lights your eyes, your lips that
cling,
And love--the flame of love that we have known!

NOW I MAY SING OF SADNESS....

Knowing, dear, that my whole heart lies at rest
Deep in the heart of you, I may sing a song
Telling the tale of bitterness and wrong....
Knowing, dear, that my head lay on your breast
Only last night, I may sing of dreams that died,
And hopes that never were born, and faith betrayed,
Of weary feet that have left the road and strayed
Out of the narrow way, to pastures wide.

Dear, when my songs were gay, I did not know
Whether you cared. And so I had to sing
Gladly, to mask grim fear--I had to bring
Sunlight to point the path that I must go!
Now that the clouds are silver sweet above,
I may sing songs of sadness. I am blessed
Knowing, dear, that my whole heart lies at rest,
Knowing, dear, that I have your love--your love!

KNOWING THAT YOU HAVE WALKED HER MUDDY ROADS
WEARILY, AFTER BITTER TIMES OF FIGHTING;
KNOWING THAT YOU HAVE CARRIED HEAVY LOADS
OVER HER HILLS--WHILE I, AT HOME, WAS LIGHTING
DIM YELLOW CANDLES ON THE MANTEL SHELF....
KNOWING YOU SUFFERED AGONY AND LOSS,
UNDER THE VERY SHADOW OF A CROSS--
FRANCE HOLDS A BIT OF YOU--AND OF MYSELF!

WHEN WAR CAME

War came, one day, and drew us close together,
Although it swept us many miles apart;
The love that lay as lightly as a feather,
Now rests, a precious weight, upon my heart.
And all the dreams I dreamed for just the dreaming,
Have taken on a meaning that is new;
And somehow all the lonely world is seeming,
To cry aloud my aching need of you!

Because you were so much a part of living,
Like sunshine and the freshness of the air,
The priceless gift of faith that you were giving
Seemed small to me. Scarce knowing you were
there
I took your heart-strings in my careless fingers,
And played a song as light as summer dew,
And yet, today, its wistful echo lingers
And fills an empty world with thoughts of you.

I did not think that I would ever miss you,
I did not dream the time would come to be
When I would long to touch your hand, to kiss you--
To hear your voice say tender words to me.
I did not know that I would wonder whether
My head would rest, once more, against your
heart....
War came, my dear, and drew us close together,
Although it swept us many miles apart!

WHEN YOU WENT BY

I stood in the rain and watched you pass,
I stood in the blinding rain....
And I thought of a fragrant summer night,
When the room was glowing with candlelight,
And a shower beat on the window glass
With a wonderful, low refrain.
I thought of your arms that held me tight,
And your eyes that were near and warmly bright;
I thought of--all, as I watched you pass,
And my soul was wrung with pain.

"Tramp, tramp, tramp!" rang your column's tread.
"Tramp, tramp, tramp!" through the street.
(Ah, dear, it was summer once, and there
Were flower scents on the misty air--
Honeysuckle and mignonette, poignantly, sadly
sweet!)
"Tramp, tramp, tramp!" rang your column's tread,
And my eyes were dim as I bowed my head;
And my heart seemed broken and old and dead,
Under your marching feet.

I stood in the rain and watched you pass--
There in the autumn rain....
And I thought, my dear, of the night when you
Had kissed me first. (Ah, your eyes were blue,
And very tender, and Heaven-true,
There in the candlelight!)
I thought of a misty summer night,
When a shower fell on the vivid grass
(There, through the rain, I watched you pass!)
I thought of a mystic summer night
That never may come again.

"TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP!" RANG YOUR COLUMN'S TREAD,
"TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP!" IN THE STREET;
AND I TRIED TO SMILE--WITH A LIFTED HEAD--
BUT MY HEART LAY, CRUSHED, AT YOUR FEET!

IN MEMORIAM

To an American Aviator

He went to battle in the mist-hung sky,
Like some gold-hearted bird with pinions strong;
He went with courage, with a snatch of song,
In all his splendid youth! And God on high
Looked down with love to watch him dip and fly,
Then lifted him to where the brave belong.
He went to right a bleeding nation's wrong,
And proved that he was not afraid to die!

So we, who stare across the lonely hours,
Must only think of that great gift he gave;
Must think of other lives that his will save;
And know that, when the tender, healing showers
Have fallen in a stranger-land, the flowers
Will bloom, like prayers, upon a hero's grave!

A PEASANT GIRL SINGS

Somewhere, Out There, he is--just a boy, that's all--
(Laughter sparkled in his eyes--he was always
singing!)
Just a boy who answered when he heard his country's
call;
(Somewhere, Out There, he is--how my thoughts go
winging--)
Ready to do or dare,
(Like sunlight was his hair,)
Just a boy, a laughing boy,
Somewhere, Out There.

Idle my wheel, to-day, hushed is it's spinning--
(Ah, but his eyes were blue--blue as the sea--)
Somewhere, Out There, he is... Losing--or winning!
(Boy with the carefree heart, come back to me!)
Blood red the cannon's flare,
(God, can you hear my prayer?)
Keep him, my boy, from harm--
Somewhere, Out There.

TOGETHER

THEY LAY TOGETHER IN THE SUN AND WAITED FOR THE END;
SIDE BY SIDE, TOGETHER, BEARDED FOE AND FRIEND;
JEAN FROM THE PLEASANT FIELDS OF SINGING, SOUTHERN
FRANCE,
JEAN FROM THE POPPY FIELDS SIGHING WITH ROMANCE;
FRITZ FROM A FATHERLAND HE BLINDLY LOVED AND SERVED,
FRITZ WHOSE SOFT-NOSED BULLETS HAD NEVER FLINCHED NOR
SWERVED;
AND PETER, WHOSE TIRED EYES WERE WIDE AND DEEP AND
BROWN,
PETER FROM DELANCEY STREET, IN NEW YORK TOWN.

They didn't speak, these three,
They didn't know each other's tongue;
And, then,
When men
Whose songs are nearly sung
Are lying side by side,
Their breathing not so... free,
The gulf is rather wide.

In the sun they lay there;
And Fritz's hair
Was very bright.
He was a foe
To kill on sight--
And yet the light
Upon his hair was so,
So very fair....

Jean found himself remembering HER hair;
Of palest gold it was, a magic snare
To net men's soul in! She had bade him go,
Sobbing, "Je t'aime"--which means, "I love you so!"
Her hair--her hands--her lips,
Red as a sunset cloud when daytime slips
Into the night. No, redder!
Like a flower
That blooms upon the earth for just an hour;
A poppy flower, fragile, soft.... HER LIPS
Red as the heart-blood of a man, that drips
Into eternity....
Jean sighed,
And died.

PERHAPS HER LIPS WERE VERY NEAR--WHO KNOWS?
WHEN EYES MUST CLOSE
AGAINST THE SUN, AND LIFE, WHO CARES?
ONE ONLY DARES
TO WONDER!

Fritz lay still.
He felt the strength, the faith, the stubborn will,
Drop from him like worn garments, till he lay
Half-frightened in the burning light of day.
He had killed many, yes....
From under
His tunic, gropingly, he drew a cross;
He wondered would it make, for her, the loss
A little less?
Ah, to press
His bearded lips once more upon her cheek,
To hear her speak....

Yes, he had killed, and killed--
And he had thrilled
To do it....
But just to sit
Beside her, in the shade,
THAT had been paradise!
Her soft arms laid
About his throat....
THEY STRANGLED HIM--
His eyes grew dim....
He choked--once... twice....

Peter from Delancey Street, laughed with white-
lipped pluck.
"Dyin' side o' HIM!" he coughed. "Ain't it rotten
luck!
"Poor guy, they got him, though--got him same as
me...."
Peter, from Delancey Street, stopped talking suddenly.

He saw--
A candy store,
On the busy, smelly corner of a crowded city
slum;
He heard the hum
Of traffic in the street,
The sound of feet
Upon the pavement; and he saw,
Behind the counter there,
THE GIRL. She wore
Her hair
Plastered tight to her little shell-like ears.
He felt her tears
Upon his face
The night he told her that he'd left his place,
His steady paying job, to go and fight.

"Good night!"
He'd said to her.
"Somebody's gotta go!
Yerself, you know,
We gotta STIR
T'lick them fellers Over There!"
Her slicked-back hair
Had roughened up against his khaki sleeve,
And she had cried:
"Dear, MUST you leave?"
And he had dried
Her eyes, and smudged the powder on her
nose....

"Here goes!"
Said Peter of Delancey Street.
He saw
A candy store--
A city slum, a girl with plastered hair,
Who waited there....

THEY LAY TOGETHER IN THE SUN--BRAVELY TO THE END,
SIDE BY SIDE, TOGETHER, BEARDED FOE AND FRIEND.
JEAN FROM THE POPPY FIELDS, SIGHING WITH ROMANCE,
JEAN FROM THE LAUGHTER-LILTING FIELDS OF SOUTHERN
FRANCE;
FRITZ FROM A FATHERLAND HE BLINDLY LOVED AND SERVED,
FRITZ, WHOSE FAITH, ALTHOUGH BETRAYED, HAD NEVER
FLINCHED OR SWERVED;
AND PETER, WHOSE TIRED EYES WERE QUESTIONING AND
BROWN,
PETER, FROM DELANCEY STREET, IN NEW YORK TOWN.

JIM-DOG

He wasn't, well, a fancy kind o' dog--
Not Jim!
But, oh, I sorter couldn't seem ter help
A-lovin' him.
He always seemed ter understand.
He'd rub his nose against my hand
If I was feelin' blue or sad.
Or if my thoughts was pretty bad;
An' how he'd bark an' frisk an' play
When I was gay!

A soldier's dog don't have much time ter whine
Like little pets a-howlin' at th' moon.
A soldier's dog is bound ter learn, right soon,
That war is war, an' what a steady line
Of men in khaki means.
(What, dogs don't know?
You bet they do! Jim-dog, he had ter go
Along th' trenches oftentimes at night;
He seemed ter sense it when there was a fight
A-brewin'. Oh, I guess he knew, all right!)
I was a soldier, an' Jim-dog was MINE.

Ah, what's the use?
There never was another dog like him.
Why, on th' march I'd pause an' call--"Hey, Jim!"
An' he'd be there, his head tipped on one side,
A-lookin' up at me with love an' pride,
His tail a-waggin', an' his ears raised high....

I wonder why my Jim-dog had ter die?
He was a friend ter folks; he didn't bite;
He never snapped at no one in th' night;
He didn't hate a soul; an' he was GAME!
An' yet... a spark o' light, a dartin' flame
Across th' dark, a sneaky bit o' lead,
An' he was... dead!

They say there ain't no heaven-land for him,
'Cause dogs is dogs, an' haven't any right;
But let me tell yer this; without my Jim
Th' very shinin' streets would seem less bright!
An' somehow I'm a-thinkin' that if he
Could come at that last stirrin' bugle call
Up to th' gates o' gold aside of me,
Where God stands smilin' welcome to us all,
An' I said, "Father, here's my dog... here's
Jim,"
They'd find some corner, touched with love, fer him!

SIX SONNETS

I. SOMEHOW

Somehow I never thought that you would go,
Not even when red war swept through the land--
I somehow thought, because I loved you so,
That you would stay. I did not understand
That something stronger than my love could come,
To draw you, half-reluctant, from my heart;
I never thought the call of fife and drum
Would rend our cloak of happiness apart!

And yet, you went... And I--I did not weep--
I smiled, instead, and brushed the tears aside.
And yet, when night-time comes, I cannot sleep
But silent lie, while longing fights with pride--
YOU ARE MY MAN, THE FOE YOU FIGHT MY FOE,
AND YET--I NEVER THOUGHT THAT YOU WOULD GO!

II. I WONDER

I wonder if you dream, across the night,
When watchfires cut the vivid dark in twain,
Of long dim rooms, and yellow candlelight,
And gardens drenched in vaguely perfumed rain?
I wonder if you think, when shot and shell
And molten fire are singing songs of hate,
Of that last throbbing moment of farewell
When, in your arms, I promised you to wait!

I wonder, should grim death reach out his hand,
And speak, above the strife, of peace and rest;
If you, alone in that dark stranger land,
Would feel again my head upon your breast?
And if, as light and love and living slips,
Your prayer would be my kiss upon your lips....

III. SOME DAY

Some day when on exultant feet you come
Back through the streets that echo at your tread--
My soul will thrill to hear the throbbing drum,
And yet, perhaps, I'll sit with drooping head,
Not caring, quite, to meet your steady gaze,
Not daring, quite, to look into your eyes;
Afraid because a weary stretch of days,
Each one a million years, between us lies.

My heart--my heart is ever yours to hold,
And yet, while I have waited here for you,
You have seen faith betrayed, and brave youth sold,
You have seen meadows drenched in bloody dew--
It may have changed you, and your eyes may be
A little harder when they look at me!

IV. DREAM

Sometimes I dream that you are back with me,
And that with hands together clasped we go
Like little children, young and glad and free,
A-down a magic road we used to know.
Sometimes I dream your eyes upon my face,
And feel your fingers softly touch my hair....
And when I wake from dreaming all the place,
Seems lonelier because you are not there.

What is a dream? Not very much, they say,
An idle vision made in castled Spain--
Well, maybe they are right.... And yet, today,
When all the warring world was swept with pain,
The suffering and sorrow ceased to be,
Because I dreamed that you were back with me!

V. UNDERSTANDING

Now, when I stand in some great crowded place,
I see the souls of other women stare
Out of their eyes--And I can glimpse the care
And worry that has banished light and grace
From every life. Upon each woman-face
I see the mark of tears, the hint of prayer
That, one short year ago, had not been there--
I see what time will never quite erase!

Before you left, I did not notice eyes--
Because I knew that I might touch your hand,
I did not dream the dread that swept our land...
Ah, dear, the months have made me very wise!
Now, one with everything, I understand,
And heart meets heart and I can sympathize.