Page:American Poetry 1922.djvu/202



And darken the ripples; but they cannot darken my heart, Nor the face like a star in my heart! . . . Rain falls on the water And pelts it, and rings it with silver. The willow trees glisten, The sparrows chirp under the eaves; but the face in my heart Is a secret of music. . . . I wait in the rain and am silent." Listen again! . . . It says: "I have worked, I am tired, The pencil dulls in my hand: I see through the window Walls upon walls of windows with faces behind them, Smoke floating up to the sky, an ascension of sea-gulls. I am tired. I have struggled in vain, my decision was fruitless, Why then do I wait? with darkness, so easy, at hand? But tomorrow, perhaps. . . . I will wait and endure till tomorrow! . . ." Or again: "It is dark. The decision is made. I am vanquished By terror of life. The walls mount slowly about me In coldness. I had not the courage. I was forsaken. I cried out, was answered by silence. . . . Tetélestai! . . ." 188