my heart was a fresh tide flowing?Where the starlike sea gulls soar;?The sun was keen and the foam was blowing?High on the rocky shore.
But now in the dusk the tide is turning,?Lower the sea gulls soar,?And the waves that rose in resistless yearning?Are broken forevermore.
After Love
There is no magic any more,?We meet as other people do,?You work no miracle for me?Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea --?There is no splendor any more,?I have grown listless as the pool?Beside the shore.
But though the pool is safe from storm?And from the tide has found surcease,?It grows more bitter than the sea,?For all its peace.
New Love and Old
In my heart the old love?Struggled with the new;?It was ghostly waking?All night through.
Dear things, kind things,?That my old love said,?Ranged themselves reproachfully?Round my bed.
But I could not heed them,?For I seemed to see?The eyes of my new love?Fixed on me.
Old love, old love,?How can I be true??Shall I be faithless to myself?Or to you?
The Kiss
I hoped that he would love me,?And he has kissed my mouth,?But I am like a stricken bird?That cannot reach the south.
For though I know he loves me,?To-night my heart is sad;?His kiss was not so wonderful?As all the dreams I had.
Swans
Night is over the park, and a few brave stars?Look on the lights that link it with chains of gold,?The lake bears up their reflection in broken bars?That seem too heavy for tremulous water to hold.
We watch the swans that sleep in a shadowy place,?And now and again one wakes and uplifts its head;?How still you are -- your gaze is on my face --?We watch the swans and never a word is said.
The River
I came from the sunny valleys?And sought for the open sea,?For I thought in its gray expanses?My peace would come to me.
I came at last to the ocean?And found it wild and black,?And I cried to the windless valleys,?"Be kind and take me back!"
But the thirsty tide ran inland,?And the salt waves drank of me,?And I who was fresh as the rainfall?Am bitter as the sea.
November
The world is tired, the year is old,?The fading leaves are glad to die,?The wind goes shivering with cold?Where the brown reeds are dry.
Our love is dying like the grass,?And we who kissed grow coldly kind,?Half glad to see our old love pass?Like leaves along the wind.
Spring Rain
I thought I had forgotten,?But it all came back again?To-night with the first spring thunder?In a rush of rain.
I remembered a darkened doorway?Where we stood while the storm swept by,?Thunder gripping the earth?And lightning scrawled on the sky.
The passing motor busses swayed,?For the street was a river of rain,?Lashed into little golden waves?In the lamp light's stain.
With the wild spring rain and thunder?My heart was wild and gay;?Your eyes said more to me that night?Than your lips would ever say. . . .
I thought I had forgotten,?But it all came back again?To-night with the first spring thunder?In a rush of rain.
The Ghost
I went back to the clanging city,?I went back where my old loves stayed,?But my heart was full of my new love's glory,?My eyes were laughing and unafraid.
I met one who had loved me madly?And told his love for all to hear --?But we talked of a thousand things together,?The past was buried too deep to fear.
I met the other, whose love was given?With never a kiss and scarcely a word --?Oh, it was then the terror took me?Of words unuttered that breathed and stirred.
Oh, love that lives its life with laughter?Or love that lives its life with tears?Can die -- but love that is never spoken?Goes like a ghost through the winding years. . . .
I went back to the clanging city,?I went back where my old loves stayed,?My heart was full of my new love's glory, --?But my eyes were suddenly afraid.
Summer Night, Riverside
In the wild, soft summer darkness?How many and many a night we two together?Sat in the park and watched the Hudson?Wearing her lights like golden spangles?Glinting on black satin.?The rail along the curving pathway?Was low in a happy place to let us cross,?And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom?Sheltered us,?While your kisses and the flowers,?Falling, falling,?Tangled my hair. . . .
The frail white stars moved slowly over the sky.
And now, far off?In the fragrant darkness?The tree is tremulous again with bloom,?For June comes back.
To-night what girl?Dreamily before her mirror shakes from her hair?This year's blossoms, clinging in its coils?
Jewels
If I should see your eyes again,?I know how far their look would go --?Back to a morning in the park?With sapphire shadows on the snow.
Or back to oak trees in the spring?When you unloosed my hair and kissed?The head that lay against your knees?In the leaf shadow's amethyst.
And still another shining place?We would remember -- how the dun?Wild mountain held us
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