Young Adventure | Page 4

a new enthusiasm. The desire for novelty, the passion for force and dirt, and the hankering after freakishness of mood, which many have attempted to substitute for the older and simpler things, are themselves the best evidence of disillusion and jaded nerves. There is a weariness and a disgust in our recent impatience with beauty which indicate too clearly the exhaustion of our spiritual resources. It may well be that the rebirth of poetry is to be manifest in a reappearance of the obvious, -- in a love of the sea and of the beauty of clouds, in the adventure of death and the yet more amazing adventure of living, in a vital love of colour, whether of the Orient or the drug-shop, in childlike love of melody, and the cool cleansing of rain, in strange faces and old memories. This, in the past, has been poetry, and this will be poetry again. The singer who, out of a full heart, can offer to the world his vision of its beauty, and out of a noble mind, his conception of its destiny, will bestow upon his time the most precious gift which we can now receive, the gift of his healing power.
C. B. T.

Contents

Dedication Foreword by Chauncey Brewster Tinker
I.
The Drug-Shop, or, Endymion in Edmonstoun
II.
Rain after a Vaudeville Show The City Revisited Going Back to School Nos Immortales Young Blood The Quality of Courage Campus Sonnets: 1. Before an Examination 2. Talk 3. May Morning 4. Return -- 1917 Alexander VI Dines with the Cardinal of Capua The Breaking Point Lonely Burial Dinner in a Quick Lunch Room The Hemp Poor Devil! Ghosts of a Lunatic Asylum The White Peacock Colors A Minor Poet The Lover in Hell Winged Man Music The Innovator Love in Twilight The Fiddling Wood Portrait of a Boy Portrait of a Baby The General Public Road and Hills Elegy for an Enemy

I.
The Drug-Shop, or, Endymion in Edmonstoun
Prefatory Note.
This poem received the nineteenth award of the prize offered by Professor Albert Stanburrough Cook to Yale University for the best unpublished verse, the Committee of Award consisting of Professors C. F. Tucker Brooke, of Yale University, Robert Frost, of Amherst College, and Charles M. Gayley, of the University of California.

I.
The Drug-Shop, or, Endymion in Edmonstoun
"Oh yes, I went over to Edmonstoun the other day and saw Johnny, mooning around as usual! He will never make his way." Letter of George Keats, 18--

Night falls; the great jars glow against the dark, Dark green, dusk red, and, like a coiling snake, Writhing eternally in smoky gyres, Great ropes of gorgeous vapor twist and turn Within them. So the Eastern fisherman Saw the swart genie rise when the lead seal, Scribbled with charms, was lifted from the jar; And -- well, how went the tale? Like this, like this? . . .
No herbage broke the barren flats of land, No winds dared loiter within smiling trees, Nor were there any brooks on either hand, Only the dry, bright sand, Naked and golden, lay before the seas.
One boat toiled noiselessly along the deep, The thirsty ripples dying silently Upon its track. Far out the brown nets sweep, And night begins to creep Across the intolerable mirror of the sea.
Twice the nets rise, a-trail with sea-plants brown, Distorted shells, and rocks green-mossed with slime, Nought else. The fisher, sick at heart, kneels down; "Prayer may appease God's frown," He thinks, then, kneeling, casts for the third time.
And lo! an earthen jar, bound round with brass, Lies tangled in the cordage of his net. About the bright waves gleam like shattered glass, And where the sea's rim was The sun dips, flat and red, about to set.
The prow grates on the beach. The fisherman Stoops, tearing at the cords that bind the seal. Shall pearls roll out, lustrous and white and wan? Lapis? carnelian? Unheard-of stones that make the sick mind reel
With wonder of their beauty? Rubies, then? Green emeralds, glittering like the eyes of beasts? Poisonous opals, good to madden men? Gold bezants, ten and ten? Hard, regal diamonds, like kingly feasts?
He tugged; the seal gave way. A little smoke Curled like a feather in the darkening sky. A blinding gush of fire burst, flamed, and broke. A voice like a wind spoke. Armored with light, and turbaned terribly,
A genie tramped the round earth underfoot; His head sought out the stars, his cupped right hand Made half the sky one darkness. He was mute. The sun, a ripened fruit, Drooped lower. Scarlet eddied o'er the sand.
The genie spoke: "O miserable one! Thy prize awaits thee; come, and hug it close! A noble crown thy draggled nets have won For this that thou hast done. Blessed are fools! A gift remains for those!"
His hand sought out his sword, and lightnings flared Across the sky