Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/161

 Rh "IT WILL BE A HARD WINTER"

HEY say the blue king jays have flown

From woods of Westchester:

So I am off for Luthany,

But I shall make no stir;

For who fair Luthany would see,

Must set him forth alone.

In screwing winds last night the snow

Creaked like an angry jinn;

And two old men from up the State

Said, "Bears went early in,"—

Half pausing by my ice-locked gate,—

"March will be late to blow."

So I for Luthany am bound,

And I shall take no pack;

You cannot find the way, you know,

With feet that make a track,

But light as blowing leaf must go,

And you must hear a sound

That's like a singing strange and high

Of birds you've never seen;

Then two ghosts come; as doves they move,

While you must walk between;

And one is Youth and one is Love,

Who say, "We did not die."

The harp-built walls of Luthany

Are builded high and strong,

To shelter singer, fool and seer;

And glad they live, and long.

All others die who enter there,

But they are safe, these three.