Page:American Poetry 1922.djvu/22



I the larkspur, Heavenly blue in my garden. They, at least, unchanged.

II How have I hurt you? You look at me with pale eyes, But these are my tears.

III Morning and evening— Yet for us once long ago Was no division.

IV I hear many words. Set an hour when I may come Or remain silent.

V In the ghostly dawn I write new words for your ears— Even now you sleep. 8