The chatter of little people
Breaks on my purpose
Like the water-drops which slowly wear the rocks to powder.
And while I laugh
My spirit crumbles at their teasing touch.

IN the morning, a Sunday morning, shadows of sea and adumbrants of rock in her eyes ... horseback in leather boots and leather gauntlets by the sea.
  
In the evening, a Sunday evening, a rope of pearls on her white shoulders ... and a speaking, brooding black velvet, relapsing to the voiceless ... battering Russian marches on a piano ... drive of blizzards across Nebraska.
  
Yes, riding horseback on hills by the sea ... sitting at the ivory keys in black velvet, a rope of pearls on white shoulders.

Because my love is quick to come and go--
A little here, and then a little there--
What use are any words of mine to swear
My heart is stubborn, and my spirit slow
Of weathering the drip and drive of woe?
What is my oath, when you have but to bare
My little, easy loves; and I can dare
Only to shrug, and answer, "They are so"?

You do not know how heavy a heart it is
That hangs about my neck--a clumsy stone
Cut with a birth, a death, a bridal-day.
Each time I love, I find it still my own,
Who take it, now to that lad, now to this,
Seeking to give the wretched thing away.

I dreamed one man stood against a thousand,
One man ****** as a wrongheaded fool.
One year and another he walked the streets,
And a thousand shrugs and hoots
Met him in the shoulders and mouths he passed.

     He died alone.
And only the undertaker came to his funeral.

Flowers grow over his grave anod in the wind,
And over the graves of the thousand, too,
The flowers grow anod in the wind.

     Flowers and the wind,
Flowers anod over the graves of the dead,
Petals of red, leaves of yellow, streaks of white,
Masses of purple sagging. . .
I love you and your great way of forgetting.

543

I fear a Man of frugal Speech—
I fear a Silent Man—
Haranguer—I can overtake—
Or Babbler—entertain—

But He who weigheth—While the Rest—
Expend their furthest pound—
Of this Man—I am wary—
I fear that He is Grand—

DANCE there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the salt drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool's triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind!

Guns,
Long, steel guns,
Pointed from the war ships
In the name of the war god.
Straight, shining, polished guns,
Clambered over with jackies in white blouses,
Glory of tan faces, tousled hair, white teeth,
Laughing lithe jackies in white blouses,
Sitting on the guns singing war songs, war chanties.

Shovels,
Broad, iron shovels,
Scooping out oblong vaults,
Loosening turf and leveling sod.

     I ask you
     To witness--
     The shovel is brother to the gun.

Just once I knew what life was for.
In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood;
walked there along the Charles River,
watched the lights copying themselves,
all neoned and strobe-hearted, opening
their mouths as wide as opera singers;
counted the stars, my little campaigners,
my scar daisies, and knew that I walked my love
on the night green side of it and cried
my heart to the eastbound cars and cried
my heart to the westbound cars and took
my truth across a small ****** bridge
and hurried my truth, the charm of it, home
and hoarded these constants into morning
only to find them gone.

God's acre was her garden-spot, she said;
  She sat there often, of the Summer days,
Little and slim and sweet, among the dead,
  Her hair a fable in the leveled rays.

She turned the fading wreath, the rusted cross,
  And knelt to coax about the wiry stem.
I see her gentle fingers on the moss
  Now it is anguish to remember them.

And once I saw her weeping, when she rose
  And walked a way and turned to look around-
The quick and envious tears of one that knows
  She shall not lie in consecrated ground.

Fast, hot windows quickly love a small, small flower.
Walk loudly like a cold light.
Ooh, love!
The light runs like a dry rain.
Workers work!