And one small elegiac bird.


"THE BLOOM UPON THE GRAPE"

The bloom upon the grape I ask no more,
Nor pampered fragrance of the soft-lipped rose,
I only ask of Him who keeps the Door--
To open it for one who fearless goes
Into the dark, from which, reluctant, came
His innocent heart, a little laughing flame;
I only ask that he who gave me sight,
Who gave me hearing and who gave me breath,
Give me the last gift in His flaming hand--
The holy gift of Death.


THE FRIEND

Through the dark wood
There came to me a friend,
Bringing in his cold hands
Two words--'The End.'

His face was fair
As fading autumn flowers,
And the lost joy
Of unforgotten hours.

His voice was sweet