Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/306

POETRY: A Magazine of Verse Laugh from the smooth mould Of tile garden beds To the upright golden buds of the chestnut trees. I shall not see The almond blossom shaming The soot-black boughs.


 * But to the right the road will lead me

To greater and greater disquiet; Into the swift rattling noise of the motor-'busses, And the dust, the tattered paper— The detritus of a city— That swirls in the air behind them. I will pass the shops where the prices Are judged day by day by the people, And come to the place where five roads meet With five tram-routes, And where amid the din Of the vans the lorries, the motor-'busses, The clangorous tram-cars, The news is shouted, And soldiers gather, off-duty.


 * Here I can feel the heat of Europe's fever;

And I can make, As each man makes the beauty of the woman he loves, No spring and no woman's beauty, While that is burning. F. S. Flint