Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/96

POETRY: A Magazine of Verse And neither of us can speak for happiness Without our voices breaking or lips trembling?"


 * She is looking down with little frowns on her brow:

"But if ever I had to work, I could not do it— I am not really strong." "But I can work," I said. I rise and lift her up, holding her hand. She slips her arm through mine and presses it. "What a good man you are!" she said, "just like a brother! I almost love you; I believe I love you."


 * The reader of the letter, being a doctor,

Is talking learnedly of the writer's ease, Which has the classical marks of paresis.


 * Next day I look up Jim and rhapsodize

About a cottage with roses and a garden, And a dining-room where the sun comes in, And Arabel across the table. Jim is smoking And flicking the ashes, but never says a word Till I have finished. Then in a quiet voice: "Arabel's sister says that Arabel's straight, But she isn't, my boy—she's just like Arabel's sister. She knew you had the madness for Arabel— That's why we laughed and stood apart as we talked. And I'll tell you now I didn't go home that night I shook you at the corner and went back