Page:American Poetry 1922.djvu/174



the sun is about to wake, and to-day white violets shine beside white lilies adrift on the mountain side; to-day the narcissus opens that loves the rain."

I watched him to the door, catching his robe as the wine-bowl crashed to the floor, spilling a few wet lees (ah, his purple hyacinth!); I saw him out of the door, I thought: there will never be a poet, in all the centuries after this, who will dare write, after my friend's verse, "a girl's mouth is a lily kissed." 160