SHADOWS IN THE SUNBEGGAR BOYWhat is there within this beggar ladThat I can neither hear nor feel nor see,That I can neither know nor understandAnd still it calls to me?Is not he but a shadow in the sun—A bit of clay, brown, ugly, given life?And yet he plays upon his flute a wild free tuneAs if Fate had not bled him with her knife!TROUBLED WOMANShe standsIn the quiet darkness,This troubled woman,Bowed byWeariness and pain,Like anAutumn flowerIn the frozen rain.Like aWind-blown autumn flowerThat never lifts its headAgain.SUICIDE’S NOTEThe calm,Cool face of the riverAsked me for a kiss.SICK ROOMHow quietIt is in this sick roomWhere on the bedA silent woman lies between two lovers—Life and Death,And all three covered with a sheet of pain.SOLEDADA Cuban PortraitThe shadowsOf too many nights of loveHave fallen beneath your eyes.Your eyes,So full of pain and passion,So full of lies.So full of pain and passion,Soledad,So deeply scarred,So still with silent cries.TO THE DARK MERCEDES OF “EL PALACIO DE AMOR”Mercedes is a jungle-lily in a death house.Mercedes is a doomed star.Mercedes is a charnel rose.Go where goldWill fall at the feet of your beauty,Mercedes.Go where they will pay you wellFor your loveliness.MEXICAN MARKET WOMANThis ancient hagWho sits upon the groundSelling her scanty waresDay in, day round,Has known high wind-swept mountains,And the sun has madeHer skin so brown.AFTER MANY SPRINGSNow,In June,When the night is a vast softnessFilled with blue stars,And broken shafts of moon-glimmerFall upon the earth,Am I too old to see the fairies dance?I cannot find them any more.YOUNG BRIDEThey say she died,—Although I do not know,They say she died of griefAnd in the earth-dark arms of DeathSought calm relief,And rest from pain of loveIn loveless sleep.THE DREAM KEEPERBring me all of your dreams,You dreamers.Bring me all of yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too rough fingersOf the world.POEM(To F. S.)I loved my friend.He went away from me.There’s nothing more to say.The poem ends,Soft as it began,—I loved my friend.
SHADOWS IN THE SUN
BEGGAR BOYWhat is there within this beggar ladThat I can neither hear nor feel nor see,That I can neither know nor understandAnd still it calls to me?Is not he but a shadow in the sun—A bit of clay, brown, ugly, given life?And yet he plays upon his flute a wild free tuneAs if Fate had not bled him with her knife!
What is there within this beggar ladThat I can neither hear nor feel nor see,That I can neither know nor understandAnd still it calls to me?Is not he but a shadow in the sun—A bit of clay, brown, ugly, given life?And yet he plays upon his flute a wild free tuneAs if Fate had not bled him with her knife!
What is there within this beggar ladThat I can neither hear nor feel nor see,That I can neither know nor understandAnd still it calls to me?Is not he but a shadow in the sun—A bit of clay, brown, ugly, given life?And yet he plays upon his flute a wild free tuneAs if Fate had not bled him with her knife!
What is there within this beggar ladThat I can neither hear nor feel nor see,That I can neither know nor understandAnd still it calls to me?
What is there within this beggar lad
That I can neither hear nor feel nor see,
That I can neither know nor understand
And still it calls to me?
Is not he but a shadow in the sun—A bit of clay, brown, ugly, given life?And yet he plays upon his flute a wild free tuneAs if Fate had not bled him with her knife!
Is not he but a shadow in the sun—
A bit of clay, brown, ugly, given life?
And yet he plays upon his flute a wild free tune
As if Fate had not bled him with her knife!
TROUBLED WOMANShe standsIn the quiet darkness,This troubled woman,Bowed byWeariness and pain,Like anAutumn flowerIn the frozen rain.Like aWind-blown autumn flowerThat never lifts its headAgain.
She standsIn the quiet darkness,This troubled woman,Bowed byWeariness and pain,Like anAutumn flowerIn the frozen rain.Like aWind-blown autumn flowerThat never lifts its headAgain.
She standsIn the quiet darkness,This troubled woman,Bowed byWeariness and pain,Like anAutumn flowerIn the frozen rain.Like aWind-blown autumn flowerThat never lifts its headAgain.
She standsIn the quiet darkness,This troubled woman,Bowed byWeariness and pain,Like anAutumn flowerIn the frozen rain.Like aWind-blown autumn flowerThat never lifts its headAgain.
She stands
In the quiet darkness,
This troubled woman,
Bowed by
Weariness and pain,
Like an
Autumn flower
In the frozen rain.
Like a
Wind-blown autumn flower
That never lifts its head
Again.
SUICIDE’S NOTEThe calm,Cool face of the riverAsked me for a kiss.
The calm,Cool face of the riverAsked me for a kiss.
The calm,Cool face of the riverAsked me for a kiss.
The calm,Cool face of the riverAsked me for a kiss.
The calm,
Cool face of the river
Asked me for a kiss.
SICK ROOMHow quietIt is in this sick roomWhere on the bedA silent woman lies between two lovers—Life and Death,And all three covered with a sheet of pain.
How quietIt is in this sick roomWhere on the bedA silent woman lies between two lovers—Life and Death,And all three covered with a sheet of pain.
How quietIt is in this sick roomWhere on the bedA silent woman lies between two lovers—Life and Death,And all three covered with a sheet of pain.
How quietIt is in this sick roomWhere on the bedA silent woman lies between two lovers—Life and Death,And all three covered with a sheet of pain.
How quiet
It is in this sick room
Where on the bed
A silent woman lies between two lovers—
Life and Death,
And all three covered with a sheet of pain.
SOLEDADA Cuban PortraitThe shadowsOf too many nights of loveHave fallen beneath your eyes.Your eyes,So full of pain and passion,So full of lies.So full of pain and passion,Soledad,So deeply scarred,So still with silent cries.
A Cuban Portrait
The shadowsOf too many nights of loveHave fallen beneath your eyes.Your eyes,So full of pain and passion,So full of lies.So full of pain and passion,Soledad,So deeply scarred,So still with silent cries.
The shadowsOf too many nights of loveHave fallen beneath your eyes.Your eyes,So full of pain and passion,So full of lies.So full of pain and passion,Soledad,So deeply scarred,So still with silent cries.
The shadowsOf too many nights of loveHave fallen beneath your eyes.Your eyes,So full of pain and passion,So full of lies.So full of pain and passion,Soledad,So deeply scarred,So still with silent cries.
The shadows
Of too many nights of love
Have fallen beneath your eyes.
Your eyes,
So full of pain and passion,
So full of lies.
So full of pain and passion,
Soledad,
So deeply scarred,
So still with silent cries.
TO THE DARK MERCEDES OF “EL PALACIO DE AMOR”Mercedes is a jungle-lily in a death house.Mercedes is a doomed star.Mercedes is a charnel rose.Go where goldWill fall at the feet of your beauty,Mercedes.Go where they will pay you wellFor your loveliness.
Mercedes is a jungle-lily in a death house.Mercedes is a doomed star.Mercedes is a charnel rose.Go where goldWill fall at the feet of your beauty,Mercedes.Go where they will pay you wellFor your loveliness.
Mercedes is a jungle-lily in a death house.Mercedes is a doomed star.Mercedes is a charnel rose.Go where goldWill fall at the feet of your beauty,Mercedes.Go where they will pay you wellFor your loveliness.
Mercedes is a jungle-lily in a death house.Mercedes is a doomed star.Mercedes is a charnel rose.Go where goldWill fall at the feet of your beauty,Mercedes.Go where they will pay you wellFor your loveliness.
Mercedes is a jungle-lily in a death house.
Mercedes is a doomed star.
Mercedes is a charnel rose.
Go where gold
Will fall at the feet of your beauty,
Mercedes.
Go where they will pay you well
For your loveliness.
MEXICAN MARKET WOMANThis ancient hagWho sits upon the groundSelling her scanty waresDay in, day round,Has known high wind-swept mountains,And the sun has madeHer skin so brown.
This ancient hagWho sits upon the groundSelling her scanty waresDay in, day round,Has known high wind-swept mountains,And the sun has madeHer skin so brown.
This ancient hagWho sits upon the groundSelling her scanty waresDay in, day round,Has known high wind-swept mountains,And the sun has madeHer skin so brown.
This ancient hagWho sits upon the groundSelling her scanty waresDay in, day round,Has known high wind-swept mountains,And the sun has madeHer skin so brown.
This ancient hag
Who sits upon the ground
Selling her scanty wares
Day in, day round,
Has known high wind-swept mountains,
And the sun has made
Her skin so brown.
AFTER MANY SPRINGSNow,In June,When the night is a vast softnessFilled with blue stars,And broken shafts of moon-glimmerFall upon the earth,Am I too old to see the fairies dance?I cannot find them any more.
Now,In June,When the night is a vast softnessFilled with blue stars,And broken shafts of moon-glimmerFall upon the earth,Am I too old to see the fairies dance?I cannot find them any more.
Now,In June,When the night is a vast softnessFilled with blue stars,And broken shafts of moon-glimmerFall upon the earth,Am I too old to see the fairies dance?I cannot find them any more.
Now,In June,When the night is a vast softnessFilled with blue stars,And broken shafts of moon-glimmerFall upon the earth,Am I too old to see the fairies dance?I cannot find them any more.
Now,
In June,
When the night is a vast softness
Filled with blue stars,
And broken shafts of moon-glimmer
Fall upon the earth,
Am I too old to see the fairies dance?
I cannot find them any more.
YOUNG BRIDEThey say she died,—Although I do not know,They say she died of griefAnd in the earth-dark arms of DeathSought calm relief,And rest from pain of loveIn loveless sleep.
They say she died,—Although I do not know,They say she died of griefAnd in the earth-dark arms of DeathSought calm relief,And rest from pain of loveIn loveless sleep.
They say she died,—Although I do not know,They say she died of griefAnd in the earth-dark arms of DeathSought calm relief,And rest from pain of loveIn loveless sleep.
They say she died,—Although I do not know,They say she died of griefAnd in the earth-dark arms of DeathSought calm relief,And rest from pain of loveIn loveless sleep.
They say she died,—
Although I do not know,
They say she died of grief
And in the earth-dark arms of Death
Sought calm relief,
And rest from pain of love
In loveless sleep.
THE DREAM KEEPERBring me all of your dreams,You dreamers.Bring me all of yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too rough fingersOf the world.
Bring me all of your dreams,You dreamers.Bring me all of yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too rough fingersOf the world.
Bring me all of your dreams,You dreamers.Bring me all of yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too rough fingersOf the world.
Bring me all of your dreams,You dreamers.Bring me all of yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too rough fingersOf the world.
Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamers.
Bring me all of your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too rough fingers
Of the world.
POEM(To F. S.)I loved my friend.He went away from me.There’s nothing more to say.The poem ends,Soft as it began,—I loved my friend.
(To F. S.)
I loved my friend.He went away from me.There’s nothing more to say.The poem ends,Soft as it began,—I loved my friend.
I loved my friend.He went away from me.There’s nothing more to say.The poem ends,Soft as it began,—I loved my friend.
I loved my friend.He went away from me.There’s nothing more to say.The poem ends,Soft as it began,—I loved my friend.
I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends,
Soft as it began,—
I loved my friend.