As thy friend’s face, with shadow of soul o’erspread,
Somewhile unto thy sight perchance hath been
Ghastly and strange, yet never so is seen
In thought, but to all fortunate favour wed;
As thy love’s death-bound features never dead
To memory’s glass return, but contravene
Frail fugitive days, and always keep, I ween
Than all new life a livelier lovelihead:—

So Life herself, thy spirit’s friend and love,
Even still as Spring’s authentic harbinger
Glows with fresh hours for hope to glorify;
Though pale she lay when in the winter grove
Her funeral flowers were snow-flakes shed on her
And the red wings of frost-fire rent the sky.

I shall tread, another year,
  Ways I walked with Grief,
Past the dry, ungarnered ear
  And the brittle leaf.

I shall stand, a year apart,
  Wondering, and shy,
Thinking, "Here she broke her heart;
Here she pled to die."

I shall hear the pheasants call,
  And the raucous geese;
Down these ways, another Fall,
  I shall walk with Peace.

But the pretty path I trod
  Hand-in-hand with Love--
Underfoot, the nascent sod,
  Brave young boughs above,

And the stripes of ribbon grass
  By the curling way--
I shall never dare to pass
  To my dying day.

1118

Exhilaration is the Breeze
That lifts us from the Ground
And leaves us in another place
Whose statement is not found—

Returns us not, but after time
We soberly descend
A little newer for the term
Upon Enchanted Ground—

Upon the table in their bowl
in violent disarray
of yellow sprays, green spikes
of leaves, red pointed petals
and curled heads of blue
and white among the litter
of the forks and crumbs and plates
the flowers remain composed.
Coolly their colloquy continues
above the coffee and loud talk
grown frail as vaudeville.

Flowers for my one-eyed girl.
You used to be a beauty queen.
I stole you when you were 18.

And I broke you in,
I broke you in,
I broke your bones
because you were a wild wild creature.

A needle for my beauty queen,
I'll give you everything you'll dream,
Baby wont you marry me.

And I'll break you in,
I'll break you in,
I'll break your bones
because you are a wild wild creature.

Your scars catch your tears
oh so beautifully.
Your scars hide your young young years
oh so beautifully.

So have another whiskey on me
and stop your crying.

Death's the lover that I'd be taking;
Wild and fickle and fierce is he.
Small's his care if my heart be breaking--
Gay young Death would have none of me.

Hear them clack of my haste to greet him!
No one other my mouth had kissed.
I had dressed me in silk to meet him--
False young Death would not hold the tryst.

Slow's the blood that was quick and stormy,
Smooth and cold is the bridal bed;
I must wait till he whistles for me--
Proud young Death would not turn his head.

I must wait till my breast is wilted.
I must wait till my back is bowed,
I must rock in the corner, jilted--
Death went galloping down the road.

Gone's my heart with a trifling rover.
Fine he was in the game he played--
Kissed, and promised, and threw me over,
And rode away with a prettier maid.

there is always somebody or something
waiting for you,
something stronger, more intelligent,
more evil, more kind, more durable,
something bigger, something better,
something worse, something with
eyes like the tiger, jaws like the shark,
something crazier than crazy,
saner than sane,
there is always something or somebody
waiting for you
as you put on your shoes
or as you sleep
or as you empty a garbage can
or pet your cat
or brush your teeth
or celebrate a holiday
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you.

keep this fully in mind
so that when it happens
you will be as ready as possible.

meanwhile, a good day to
you
if you are still there.
I think that I am---
I just burnt my fingers on
this
cigarette.