第 3 页

Young Adventure flamed to red again At the dead sun's last glimmer. Far and vast The Sausalito lights burned suddenly In little dots and clumps, as if a pen Had scrawled vague lines of gold across the hills; The sky was like a cup some rare wine fills, And stars came as he watched -- and he was free One splendid instant -- back in the great room, Curled in a chair with all of them beside And the whole world a rush of happy voices, With laughter beating in a clamorous tide. . . . Saw once again the heat of harvest fume Up to the empty sky in threads like glass, And ran, and was a part of what rejoices In thunderous nights of rain; lay in the grass Sun-baked and tired, looking through a maze Of tiny stems into a new green world; Once more knew eves of perfume, days ablaze With clear, dry heat on the brown, rolling fields; Shuddered with fearful ecstasy in bed Over a book of knights and bloody shields . . . The ship slowed, jarred and stopped. There, straight ahead, Were dock and fellows. Stumbling, he was whirled Out and away to meet them -- and his back Slumped to the old half-cringe, his hands fell slack; A big boy's arm went round him -- and a twist Sent shattering pain along his tortured wrist, As a voice cried, a bloated voice and fat, "Why it's Miss Nancy! Come along, you rat!" Nos Immortales Perhaps we go with wind and cloud and sun, Into the free companionship of air; Perhaps with sunsets when the day is done, All's one to me -- I do not greatly care; So long as there are brown hills -- and a tree Like a mad prophet in a land of dearth -- And I can lie and hear eternally The vast monotonous breathing of the earth. I have known hours, slow and golden-glowing, Lovely with laughter and suffused with light, O Lord, in such a time appoint my going, When the hands clench, and the cold face grows white, And the spark dies within the feeble brain, Spilling its star-dust back to dust again. Young Blood "But, sir," I said, "they tell me the man is like to die!" The Canon 17

----------------------- Page 18-----------------------

Young Adventure shook his head indulgently. "Young blood, Cousin," he boomed. "Young blood! Youth will be served!" -- D'Hermonville's Fabliaux. He woke up with a sick taste in his mouth And lay there heavily, while dancing motes Whirled through his brain in endless, rippling streams, And a grey mist weighed down upon his eyes So that they could not open fully. Yet After some time his blurred mind stumbled back To its last ragged memory -- a room; Air foul with wine; a shouting, reeling crowd Of friends who dragged him, dazed and blind with drink Out to the street; a crazy rout of cabs; The steady mutter of his neighbor's voice, Mumbling out dull obscenity by rote; And then . . . well, they had brought him home it seemed, Since he awoke in bed -- oh, damn the business! He had not wanted it -- the silly jokes, "One last, great night of freedom ere you're married!" "You'll get no fun then!" "H-ssh, don't tell that story! He'll have a wife soon!" -- God! the sitting down To drink till you were sodden! . . . Like great light She came into his thoughts. That was the worst. To wallow in the mud like this because His friends were fools. . . . He was not fit to touch, To see, oh far, far off, that silver place Where God stood manifest to man in her. . . . Fouling himself. . . . One thing he brought to her, At least. He had been clean; had taken it A kind of point of honor from the first . . . Others might do it . . . but he didn't care For those things. . . . Suddenly his vision cleared. And something seemed to grow within his mind. . . . Something was wrong -- the color of the wall -- The queer shape of the bedposts -- everything Was changed, somehow . . . his room. Was this his room? . . . He turned his head -- and saw beside him there The sagging body's slope, the paint-smeared face, And the loose, open mouth, lax and awry, The breasts, the bleached and brittle hair . . . these things. . . . As if all Hell were crushed to one bright line Of lightning for a moment. Then he sank, Prone beneath an intolerable weight. And bitter loathing crept up all his limbs. 18

----------------------- Page 19-----------------------

Young Adventure The Quality of Courage Black trees against an orange sky, Trees that the wind shook terribly, Like a harsh spume along the road, Quavering up like withered arms, Writhing like streams, like twisted charms Of hot lead flung in snow. Below The iron ice stung like a goad, Slashing the torn shoes from my feet, And all the air was bitter sleet. And all the land was cramped with snow, Steel-strong and fierce and glimmering wan, Like pale plains of obsidian. -- And yet I strove -- and I was fire And ice -- and fire and ice were one In one vast hunger of desire. A dim desire, of pleasant places, And lush fields in the summer sun, And logs aflame, and walls, and faces, -- And wine, and old ambrosial talk, A golden ball in fountains dancing, And unforgotten hands. (Ah, God, I trod them down where I have trod, And they remain, and they remain, Etched in unutterable pain, Loved lips and faces now apart, That once were closer than my heart -- In agony, in agony, And horribly a part of me. . . . For Lethe is for no man set, And in Hell may no man forget.) And there were flowers, and jugs, bright-glancing, And old Italian swords -- and looks, A moment's glance of fire, of fire, Spiring, leaping, flaming higher, Into the intense, the cloudless blue, Until two souls were one, and flame, And very flesh, and yet the same! As if all springs were crushed anew Into one globed drop of dew! But for the most I thought of heat, Desiring greatly. . . . Hot white sand The lazy body lies at rest in, Or sun-dried, scented grass to nest in, And fires, innumerable fires, Great fagots hurling golden gyres Of sparks far up, and the red heart In sea-coals, crashing as they part To tiny flares, and kindling snapping, Bunched sticks that burst their string and wrapping And fall like jackstraws; green and blue The evil flames of driftwood too, And heavy, sullen lumps of coke With still, fierce heat and ugly smoke. . . . . . . And then the vision of his face, And theirs, all theirs, came like a sword, Thrice, to the heart -- and as I fell I thought I saw a light before. I woke. My hands were blue and sore, Torn on the ice. I scarcely felt The frozen sleet begin to melt Upon my face as I breathed deeper, But lay 19

----------------------- Page 20-----------------------

Young Adventure there warmly, like a sleeper Who shifts his arm once, and moans low, And then sinks back to night. Slow, slow, And still as Death, came Sleep and Death And looked at me with quiet breath. Unbending figures, black and stark Against the intense deeps of the dark. Tall and like trees. Like sweet and fire Rest crept and crept along my veins, Gently. And there were no more pains. . . . Was it not better so to lie? The fight was done. Even gods tire Of fighting. . . . My way was the wrong. Now I should drift and drift along To endless quiet, golden peace . . . And let the tortured body cease. And then a light winked like an eye. . . . And very many miles away A girl stood at a warm, lit door, Holding a lamp. Ray upon ray It cloaked the snow with perfect light. And where she was there was no night Nor could be, ever. God is sure, And in his hands are things secure. It is not given me to trace The lovely laughter of that face, Like a clear brook most full of light, Or olives swaying on a height, So silver they have wings, almost; Like a great word once known and lost And meaning all things. Nor her voice A happy sound where larks rejoice, Her body, that great loveliness, The tender fashion of her dress, I may not paint them. These I see, Blazing through all eternity, A fire-winged sign, a glorious tree! She stood there, and at once I knew The bitter thing that I must do. There could be no surrender now; Though Sleep and Death were whispering low. My way was wrong. So. Would it mend If I shrank back before the end? And sank to death and cowardice? No, the last lees must be drained up, Base wine from an ignoble cup; (Yet not so base as sleek content When I had shrunk from punishment) The wretched body strain anew! Life was a storm to wander through. I took the wrong way. Good and well, At least my feet sought out not Hell! Though night were one consuming flame I must go on for my base aim, And so, perhaps, make evil grow To something clean by agony . . . And reach that light upon the snow . . . And touch her dress at last . . . So, so, I crawled. I could not speak or see Save dimly. The ice glared like fire, A long bright Hell of choking cold, And each vein was a tautened wire, Throbbing with torture - - and I crawled. My hands were wounds. So I attained The second Hell. The snow was stained I thought, and shook my head at it How red it was! 20

----------------------- Page 21-----------------------

Young Adventure Black tree-roots clutched And tore -- and soon the snow was smutched Anew; and I lurched babbling on, And then fell down to rest a bit, And came upon another Hell . . . Loose stones that ice made terrible, That rolled and gashed men as they fell. I stumbled, slipped . . . and all was gone That I had gained. Once more I lay Before the long bright Hell of ice. And still the light was far away. There was red mist before my eyes Or I could tell you how I went Across the swaying firmament, A glittering torture of cold stars, And how I fought in Titan wars . . . And died . . . and lived again upon The rack . . . and how the horses strain When their red task is nearly done. . . . I only know that there was Pain, Infinite and eternal Pain. And that I fell -- and rose again. So she was walking in the road. And I stood upright like a man, Once, and fell blind, and heard her cry . . . And then there came long agony. There was no pain when I awoke, No pain at all. Rest, like a goad, Spurred my eyes open -- and light broke Upon them like a million swords: And she was there. There are no words. Heaven is for a moment's span. And ever. So I spoke and said, "My honor stands up unbetrayed, And I have seen you. Dear . . ." Sharp pain Closed like a cloak. . . . I moaned and died. Here, even here, these things remain. I shall draw nearer to her side. Oh dear and laughing, lost to me, Hidden in grey Eternity, I shall attain, with burning feet, To you and to the mercy-seat! The ages crumble down like dust, Dark roses, deviously thrust And scattered in sweet wine -- but I, I shall lift up to you my cry, And kiss your wet lips presently Beneath the ever-living Tree. This in my heart I keep for goad! Somewhere, in Heaven she walks that road. Somewhere . . . in Heaven . . . she walks . . . that . . . road. . . . 21

----------------------- Page 22-----------------------

Young Adventure Campus Sonnets: 1. Before an Examination The little letters dance across the page, Flaunt and retire, and trick the tired eyes; Sick of the strain, the glaring light, I rise Yawning and stretching, full of empty rage At the dull maunderings of a long dead sage, Fling up the windows, fling aside his lies; Choosing to breathe, not stifle and be wise, And let the air pour in upon my cage. The breeze blows cool and there are stars and stars Beyond the dark, soft masses of the elms That whisper things in windy tones and light. They seem to wheel for dim, celestial wars; And I -- I hear the clash of silver helms Ring icy-clear from the far deeps of night. 2. Talk Tobacco smoke drifts up to the dim ceiling From half a dozen pipes and cigarettes, Curling in endless shapes, in blue rings wheeling, As formless as our talk. Phil, drawling, bets Cornell will win the relay in a walk, While Bob and Mac discuss the Giants' chances; Deep in a morris- chair, Bill scowls at "Falk", John gives large views about the last few dances. And so it goes -- an idle speech and aimless, A few chance phrases; yet I see behind The empty words the gleam of a beauty tameless, Friendship and peace and fire to strike men blind, Till the whole world seems small and bright to hold -- Of all our youth this hour is pure gold. 3. May Morning I lie stretched out upon the window-seat And doze, and read a page or 22

----------------------- Page 23-----------------------

Young Adventure two, and doze, And feel the air like water on me close, Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat With a small noise, monotonous and sweet, Against the window -- and the scent of cool, Frail flowers by some brown and dew-drenched pool Possesses me from drowsy head to feet. This is the time of all-sufficing laughter At idiotic things some one has done, And there is neither past nor vague hereafter. And all your body stretches in the sun And drinks the light in like a liquid thing; Filled with the divine languor of late spring. 4. Return -- 1917 "The College will reopen Sept. --." `Catalogue'. I was just aiming at the jagged hole Torn in the yellow sandbags of their trench, When something threw me sideways with a wrench, And the skies seemed to shrivel like a scroll And disappear . . . and propped against the bole Of a big elm I lay, and watched the clouds Float through the blue, deep sky in speckless crowds, And I was clean again, and young, and whole. Lord, what a dream that was! And what a doze Waiting for Bill to come along to class! I've cut it now -- and he -- Oh, hello, Fred! Why, what's the matter? -- here -- don't be an ass, Sit down and tell me! -- What do you suppose? I dreamed I . . . AM I . . . wounded? "YOU ARE DEAD." 23