Cross Roads | Page 7

down Fifth Avenue the other day,
And the sunshine smiled
at me,
And something, deep in my heart, burst into song.
And then,
all at once, I saw her --
A woman with painted lips and rouge-touched
cheeks --
Standing in front of a jeweler's window.
She was looking
at diamonds --
A tray of great blue-white diamonds --
And I saw a
flame leap out of her eyes to meet them
(Greedy eyes they were, and
cold, like too-perfect

jewels);
And I realized, for the first time,
That diamonds weren't
always pretty.
And then I SAW THE OTHER ONE:
A thin little girl looking into a
florist's shop
At a fragrant mass of violets, dew-purple and fresh.

She carried a huge box on her arm,
And a man, passing, said loudly,

"I guess somebody's hat'll be late today!"
And the thin little girl
flushed and hurried on,
But not before I had seen the tenderness in
her eyes --
The tenderness that real women show
When they look at
vast rolling hills, or flowers, or
very small pink babies.
I walked down Fifth Avenue the other day.
(All the world walks,
leisurely, down Fifth Avenue
in the summertime.)
FROM A CITY WINDOW
The dust is thick on the city street,
The smoke on the city sky
Hangs dense and gray at the close of day --
And the city crowds surge by
With heavy feet through the summer
heat
Like a sluggish sullen tide; ...
But hand in hand through a magic land
We are wandering side by side.
For somewhere, dear, there's a magic land
On the shores of a silver sea;
And there is a boat with turquoise sails
--
With sails that are wide and free;
A boat that is whirling through the
spray,

That is coming for you and me!
Somewhere, dear, there's a singing breeze
That creeps through the laughing air
To the wide-flung boughs of a
blue-black tree --
It touches your joyous hair;
And the touch of it is as soft and light
As a baby's lisping prayer.
Somewhere, dear, there's a bit of beach
Where the sand is warm and white;
Where the sky seems close and
the drifting clouds
Are tenderly, warmly bright.
And there is a ship with turquoise sails,
With sails like a living light!
Ah, the ship is bringing us dreams come true,
And hopes that are all dew-kissed;
It is bringing us days that are all
aglow
With scarlet and amethyst; . . .
Bringing us faith to find our way
Through a world that is wrapped in mist.
Our window looks on the city street,
We can glimpse the city sky;
But our hearts are gay at the close of
day,
Though the tired crowds pass by
With heavy feet through the
blinding heat,
Like a sullen, sluggish tide. . . .
For hand in hand through a magic

land.
We are wandering side by side.
THE LADY ACROSS THE COURT
She only comes when night is near,
And stands a moment quietly
Beside her window, in the dusk --
She lives across the court from me --
And though I cannot see her
eyes
Because she is too far away,
I somehow feel that they are kind,
And very soft, and widely gray!
Her hands are only dim white blurs,
That rest against the window pane;
And yet I know that they are firm,
And cool and sweet as April rain.
And, oh, I cannot help but wish
As, through the dark, I go to bed,
That they might rest a moment like
A little prayer upon my head!
She only comes when night is near,
I do not know who she can be;
I never see her anywhere
But just across the court from me. . . .
I am so small the curtains hide
The wistful smiles that I have smiled,
And yet I, somehow, think she
feels
The love of me -- a lonely child.

TO A PORCELAIN PUPPY DOG
Oh, pudgy porcelain puppy dog from far-away Japan,
I saw you in a shop to-day where lonesomely you
sat
Upon a velvet cushion that was colored gold and
purple,
Between a bowl of goldfish, and a sleeping wooden
cat.
I wonder what you thought about as stolidly you sat
there,
A grin of faint derision on your pudgy porcelain
face;
I wonder if you dreamed about some cherry blossom
tea house,
And if the goldfish bored you in their painted
Chinese case?
I wonder if you dreamed about the laughter of the
geishas
As languidly they danced across the shining
lacquered floor,
I wonder if your thoughts were with a purple clump
of iris
That bloomed, all through the summer, by the
little tea house door?
I wonder if you hated us who passed, you by unheeding,
You who
had known the temples of another, older
land?
And, oh, I wonder if you knew when I had paused
beside you
To pat you, porcelain puppy dog, that I could

understand?
COLORS
I love color.
I love flaming reds,
And vivid greens,
And royal
flaunting purples.
I love the startled rose of the sun at dawning,
And
the