Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 6 (April-September 1915).djvu/21

The New World Both men were suffering, not one but two. And then that face came into view, Gaunt and unshaved, with shadows and wild eyes, A face of madness and of desolation. And his cries, For all his mate could do, Rang out, a shrill unearthly noise, And tears ran down the stubble of his cheek.


 * The other face was younger, clean and sad.

With the manful, stricken beauty of a lad Who had intended always to be glad. The touch of his compassion, like a mother's, Guarded the madman, soothed him and caressed. And then I heard him speak: "Mon frère, mon frère! Calme-toi! Right here’s your place." And, opening his coat, he pressed Upon his heart the pour wet face And smoothed the tangled hair.


 * After a peaceful moment there

The maniac screamed, struck out and fell Across his brother’s arm. Love could not quell His fury. Wrists together high in air He rose, and with a yell Brought down his handcuffs toward the upturned face Then paused, then knelt—and then that sound, that moan, Of one forsaken and alone: