I STEPHE WiLL BKADLEX FPs.LDEPvJCKA STOKES Copyright, 1 899, by Frederick A. Stokes Company Arranged and Printed by Will Bradley at the University Press, Cambridge and New Tork IS KIND DO not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the regi ment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above them, Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom A field where a thousand corpses lie. Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. War is kind. Swift blazing flag of the regiment, Eagle with crest of red and gold, These men were born to drill and die. Point for them the virtue of slaughter, Make plain to them the excellence of killing And a field where a thousand corpses lie. Mother whose heart hung humble as a button On the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind. 10 WHAT says the sea, little shell ? " What says the sea ?. " Long has our brother been silent to us, " Kept his message for the ships, " Awkward ships, stupid ships." n " The sea bids you mourn, O Pines, " Sing low in the moonlight. " He sends tale of the land of doom, " Of place where endless falls 44 A rain of women's tears, " And men in grey robes " Men in grey robes " Chant the unknown pain." " What says the sea, little shell ? " What says the sea ? " Long has our brother been silent to us, " Kept his message for the ships, " Puny ships, silly ships." " The sea bids you teach, O Pines, " Sing low in the moonlight ; " Teach the gold of patience, " Cry gospel of gentle hands, " Cry a brotherhood of hearts. " The sea bids you teach, O Pines." 16 And where is the reward, little shell? What says the sea? Long has our brother been silent to us, Kept his message for the ships. Puny ships, silly ships." 17 f< No word says the sea, O Pines, " No word says the sea. " Long will your brother be silent to you, " Keep his message for the ships, " O puny pines, silly pines." TO the maiden The sea was blue meadow, Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked s The sea was dead grey walls Superlative in vacancy. Upon which nevertheless at fateful time Was written The grim hatred of nature. A LITTLE ink more or less ! It surely can't matter ? Even the sky and the opulent sea, The plains and the hills, aloof, Hear the uproar of all these books. But it is only a little ink more or less. What? You define me God with these trinkets ? Can my misery meal on an ordered walking Of surpliced numskulls? And a fanfare of lights ? Or even upon the measured pulpitings Of the familiar false arid true ? Is this God? Where, then, is hell? Show me some bastard mushroom Sprung from a pollution of blood. It is better. Where is God ? 22 HAVE you ever made a just man ? " " Oh, I have made three/' answered God, " But two of them are dead, " And the third " Listen ! Listen ! " And you will hear the thud of his defeat." I EXPLAIN the silvered passing of a ship at night, The sweep of each sad lost wave, The dwindling boom of the steel thing's striv ing, The little cry of a man to a man, A shadow falling across the greyer night, And the sinking of the small star ; Then the waste, the far waste of waters, And the soft lashing of black waves For long and in loneliness. Remember, thou, O ship of love, Thou leavest a far waste of waters, And the soft lashing of black waves For long and in loneliness. " T HAVE heard the sunset song of the * birches, " A white melody in the silence, " I have seen a quarrel of the pines. "At nightfall " The little grasses have rushed by me " With the wind men. "These things have I lived/* quoth the maniac, " Possessing only eyes and ears. "But you " You don green spectacles before you look at roses/' FAST rode the knight With spurs, hot and reeking, Ever waving an eager sword, " To save my lady ! " Fast rode the knight, And leaped from saddle to war. Men of steel flickered and gleamed Like riot of silver lights, And the gold of the knight's good banner Still waved on a castle wall. .. A horse, Blowing, staggering, bloody thing, Forgotten at foot of castle wall. A horse Dead at foot of castle wall. FORTH went the candid man And spoke freely to the wind When he looked about him he was in a far strange country. Forth went the candid man And spoke freely to the stars Yellow light tore sight from his eyes. " My good fool," said a learned bystander, " Your operations are mad." 33 " You are too candid," cried the candid man. And when his stick left the head of the learned bystander It was two sticks. 34 YOU tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle and an ass. ON the desert A silence from the moon's deepest valley. Fire rays fall athwart the robes Of hooded men, squat and dumb. Before them, a woman Moves to the blowing of shrill whistles And distant-thunder of drums, While mystic things, sinuous, dull with terrible color, Sleepily fondle her body Or move at her will, swishing stealthily over the sand. The snakes whisper softly ; The whispering, whispering snakes, Dreaming and swaying and staring, But always whispering, softly whispering. The wind streams from the lone reaches Of Arabia, solemn with night, And the wild fire makes shimmer of blood Over the robes of the hooded men Squat and dumb. Bands of moving bronze, emerald, yellow, Circle the throat and the arms of her, And over the sands serpents move warily Slow, menacing and submissive, Swinging to the whistles and drums, The whispering, whispering snakes, Dreaming and swaying and staring, But always whispering, softly whispering. The dignity of the accursed; The glory of slavery, despair, death, Is in the dance of the whispering snakes. . A NEWSPAPER is a collection of half-. -**. injustices Which, bawled by boys from mile to mile, Spreads its curious opinion To a million merciful and sneering men, While families cuddle the joys of the fireside When spurred by tale of dire lone agony. A newspaper is a court Where every one is kindly and unfairly tried By a squalor of honest men. A newspaper is a market Where wisdom sells its' freedom And melons are crowned by the crowd. A newspaper is a game Where his error scores the player victory While another's skill wins death. A newspaper is a symbol ; It is fetless life's chronicle, A collection of loud tales Concentrating eternal stupidities, That in remote ages lived unhaltered, Roaming through a fenceless world. 40 THE wayfarer, Perceiving the pathway to truth, Was struck with astonishment. It was thickly grown with weeds. " Ha," he said, " I see that none has passed here "In a long time." Later he saw that each weed Was a singular knife.