PS Gopiglit N° I-, , -" < COPyRIGHT DEPOSIT. We, the Musk Chasers ffi<^ ILI) ^"^ r QLE.TCS4 C Bi^^it^'^® HUii .t)^' \^'?.\ Thanks are due the editor of Poetry, a Magazine of Verse for permission to reprint certain of these poems. NOV -^^ l^?l 3)C!.A6303;j6 Copyrighted, 1921, by Ralph Fletcher Seymour ^K> I ToW TABLE OF CONTENTS We, the Musk Chasers H This Flesh of Fire 12 Lips ....!..'.*.*.* 13 Night — and Your Fingertips 14 It Is the Night .*.'..' 15 My Hands * * ig Feet 17 I Cannot Hide Ig Send Me as a Gift 19 That I Should Need 20 We Two 21 Shall I? '/.'.'.'/.'.'.['.'.'.'.'.'.[ 22 Finis 23 Strong Breast and White. . . . . 24 Me 25 Stern Love 26 Till Worlds Make Way .'.*.*.* .* .* .' .* .* .* .* [ [ ] [ 27 Let Them Be Kept From Me 28 To One Dead 30 My Body .....[..... 31 Silly Moon 32 Fly-By-Night [[ 33 Take Their Little Necks [['.,', 34 Come! 35 Softly I Creep 36 Cowards Thirst 37 Echoes ..//... 38 My Heart 39 I Shall Perform Miracles 40 Now— I Ask Nothing of You 41 Elm Trees Make No Answer 42 A Certain Man 43 Elevator Man 44 Poets 45 Words 46 You Leave Off 47 Five Feet High 48 Old Man 49 Lord of Girls 50 Beauty 51 You Will Never Go Picking Wild Flowers 52 The Loop 53 Silent Ones 54 Stream 55 Losers 56 Michigan Avenue 57 You Must Hurry 58 Little Bo-Peep 59 God Made Three Things Good 60 He Called Women to Him 61 Thanks 62 Dawn 63 Until Steel Strikes 64 All the Graves 65 God in a City 66 One Way 67 So Much of Wondering 68 L. 69 He Stood Alone 70 Four Corners of a Room 71 What I Always Wonder 72 It Will Take Many Years 74 Nuns 75 Little Lonely World 76 It's No Good Running 77 If It Were Not for This Dream 78 Things Understood 79 When We Die 80 We, the Musk Chasers We, the Musk Chasers Gather us close, O stars, in your net. We, the tired hearts of citizens, We, the musk chasers And the rainbow seekers. Gather us close We, the lean fishers and folk undone. Gather us close, O stars, in your net. 11 This Flesh of Fire It is my body that suffers most from silence, My soul can go off and gather stars. Gaily, like swift flame leaping from the wood, Or in the dusk of evening dream a whcrfe life through. But my body gets hungry. It must have the feel of flesh against it. And the noise of lips. Why, God could build a pension house for souls. And they would roost. But oh, this flesh of fire That bums one's whole life through 1 12 Lips You are tremendous, O lips, No sympathy upon me. No bartering with the weakness that might come upon me I Nothing was made before you, you the creator, Cliffs only come into our lives through you. Forests with night on them, hungry prairie and sullen sand It was the story of a million lips that built the pyramids. 13 Night — and Your Fingertips I am glad for the snow falling, Likewise your hands That fall on me like snow, At first gently, the baby-fingers of air, Then swiftly, brushing on me like the sharp nails of demons. Flaying all my flesh to wind and speed. The night too on me falling, And the whole world of water lapping at my feet. Ah, how very sweet God made the world. When He made snow And water. Night and your fingertips! 14 It Is the Night It's the night always crying "Why not?" It's the moon always getting hid in your lips, Then rushing out and shouting "It's aU right. Come on!" Far to seaward, back to shore. Out to windward, reef your sails, Go so far, and halt your tracks. Catch the first glimpse, turn your backs I teU you, this mischief is the night, always crying "Why not?" It's the moon always getting hid in your lips, Then rushing out and shouting "It's all right. Come on!" 15 My Hands They keep repeating over and over the want song, The food and drink and money song, ^ Want me to forget half the time the low calls from my heart. Expect me to go around leading my own halter. Making my own grave among the greedy. And then — nights — they want things we dare only breathe quietly — quietly — The diary things, the unpublished, the unex- purgate. f i 16 Feet The strangest thing is how my feet go pitty-pat to your doorway. They are unleashed, wayward feet, That never go pathways, But steal grotesquely down dark caverns And molest the stars at night. You seldom follow You seldom run around with me on those quests Where the tall white women plunge, Where the great high towers lean. You seldom follow. But when these questings lose their lure. Oh then! The strangest thing is how my feet go pitty-pat to your doorway. 17 I Cannot Hide I cannot hide from you any longer, Red-bird mouth! All the long winter like a skulking thief, I went by tree and shaking leaf. Hung my head and held my breath. But Spring is out now, Geese are flying high now. Red-bird mouth How good do you think dry lips are? How good do you think empty arms are, when Spring comes? 18 Send Me as a Gift Send me as a gift something in your heart that no one else sees. Send me the dreams that go scurrying away from the harsh ones, The little useless thoughts that can't build bridges or sell merchandise, I would be one with the purple darkness that hangs over you when night whispers. . Oh, the only gift I want from you is what you give to no one else! 19 That I Should Need That I should need so many loves! Coming at dusk to hold my heart, Coming at dawn to twine my hair How many women spend their gold on one, How many men go with their pockets bare. But I That I should need so many loves — And the sun needs only the sky! 20 We Two God will let us slip sometime from the great cloud, Two poor fretted, hungry ones. And drop us. On the roofs of strong new worlds to conquer, Wild loves to devour. And you he will drop at the foot of a cliff, Eager and chalk for the seas of England, But I will drop at a pansy's lips, Drop — and cry upward — and reach its heart with my fingertips! 21 ShaU I? Little heart crying in its dusty corner, Poor little hands that plead, And the laughter that's going to seed. Poor little heart in the corner crying! Shall I be the prince outside, In the rainstorm beating my hands together. Drawing my wide cloak fold on fold? Or shall I leap through the shuttered window, Strong as a shaft of fire, And catch you, poor little heart in the corner. Catch you, and ride, ride, ride! 22 Finis Let us make songs where crying is, And stiffen our hearts to the wind, The ice storm breaks and the waves are high. Where the secret of dying is. Oh, hold my hand and haunt my lips. The great sky blooms tonight It blooms with the gold I find tonight. Dying — struck dead by your fingertips! 23 strong Breast and White There shall be forever the clanking of iron chains. And forever the bruising of young hearts, Ever the sea-gulls beating on the foam, The swallow and its cliff. There shall be forever the lure of lips, Running like God's voice through the world. Ever the strong breast and the white, Laid at the altars of the night. 24 Me I shall not unsay one word that is said, Or undo one sin, Let the saints howl and the pelting come in, I shall be the composite me. Of the hundreds I hurt, The few I love, And the one who gave me gorgeously These shall be minarets and towers and archi- traves and doorways To the temple that is me! 25 stern Love Waves must be held, Cliff and rock fasten rough fingers in their hair, Or how their screaming lusts would overwhelm the world! And you, girl with dreams, Fingers must grapple with you. Lips battle, Or a whole world goes to ruin So! That's love! 26 TiU Worlds Make Way Dreamily, girl, Duskily, night. Cover your dead. Make a plot by the old stream's head, Plant him and pray, Till worlds make way, And the blooms come Duskily, night, Dreamily, girl. 27 Let Them Be Kept From Me I must go alone! This man here with the high large heart, Would catch me with him as he runs the years through, He would give vision to me with his eyes, Melodies as light as cat's feet. Through his hearing. Oh, the myi'iad beauties I might feel. Going, with his heart to teach me, And his lips to heal. But I must go alone! Though this woman has a way with her, A Mary Garden lure that haunts the quick- pulsed, A buttercup voice crying so plaintively and thin She must be kept from me, after she is once near me, 28 I cannot tear her though my nails are sharp. And little children, Too much eyes. Too hungry hands, Let them be kept from me For I must go alone, As fire — or water. I 29 To One Dead Not for a month or a year Shall the poor earth smile as the earth has smiled. Your eyes will be in the roots, I know. Your hands at groping be busy, I know For months and years. Have you not left me undiscovered and new, Me, the faithful and wearily true? Me, the plentiful soil for you? Not for months and years, I know. Will the old seeds sprout and the old plants grow. You under the ground Getting gnarled and browned. For the soil in me that is still unf ound God! the soil in me. Strangled, root-bound! 30 My Body I bring you this evening as a peace offering, After the worn insouciance of the day, The frank beauty of my body as it comes drip- ping from the bath. I know it is beautiful, for I have seen the marble of it in dim lamplight, And it thrills with blood like a Niagara. After the weak clamor of the day, I bring the white beauty of my body, Like a shaft of stone. 31 Silly Moon Oh no, dear no, You were not to blame. Silly moon I Fd been warned to keep my feet. Prime my heart throbs slick and neat, I'd been told old wine was sweet. And the taste of two lips ruinous to a girl. Oh no, dear no. You were not to blame. Silly moon I 32 Fly-By-Night You are the fly-by-night. That sets the torch to men, They bum like chaff You are the enigma. The three-ring circus in a tent, You are the mirage and the North Star. When you call, a hundred mills listen, as grain When wind shrieks. But to be free of you Is to be tangless and arid. You are the fly-by-night, That sets the torch to men, They burn like chaff You are love. 33 Take Their Little Necks I ask you to be fierce, Chicago, As a drowning man in the first spasm Fierce first of all to your women. Trip them when they come mincing down the Avenue, Take their little necks and squeeze them, Frantically. (Women grow scatter-brained with no fingers at them, There is no white glory to them if they are not hurt, Oh, the unhurt women you see oggling at the shops. Paint and cloth I) And when you get a chance at men. Be fierce with them; It is their hands have made you, Their insistent, silly howling for the moon. When they wrought you, Chicago, They wrought pigstys out of gauze. And fine dreams. 34 Come! Come into the courage of two mighty hands, Little heart, Put your grass blades and your flowers On my fingertips, Rest your hungry lips I am he. The sea knows me, and the clouds racing at noon to take the high sun's trail. Or the wind that leaps to flail The vessel from its wharf. Cliffs know me, I have beat the breath out Qf them. And with the forest trees grown wild. Come into the courage of two mighty hands. Little heart. Put your grass blades and your flowers on my fingertips. Rest your hungry lips I am Love. 35 Softly I Creep Love is a valley wide as God's right hand, Birds are in it and the scent of leaves, Over the edge gay children laugh like buttercups. And when the rain comes, Rain that is desire bending the grass before it, I who am chosen of God, Desired and obtained. Stand straight and haunted by the sweep of wings. But how softly I creep into the shadow of His fingers. When the storm comes! 36 Cowards Thirst Cowards thirsty You see them standing by the wells, Sick-eyed, remote, While at their feet the whole world gushes. Do you remember how some nights of storm Bear in upon us till we split our dreams. Frantically dash them open for the world to see, Heedless if we are damned? Cowards try picking them up again Let them go, I say! Yes, cowards thirst. They dry up like deserts — ^grow tough, spiny things. Kill little green shoots. Bravery is a high star Do you think God numbers where the cowards are? 37 Echoes It's all right then if we take heed of the echoes, They come far off, like the sea's rush. They come far off and make no bones of screaming. The echoes of dead poets make my ears ring, And to the lovers, wise, dead lovers sing. Only — we must take heed of the echoes, Never forget how layer on layer the world is built on echoes. And how our hearts will become echo and grass. 38 My Heart This is my heart: Cliffs, And sea gulls beating against them piteously, Moons, Hungry and demented, Flowers drying up before drought. This is my heart: The dusky presence of trees Hung with night, Stars falling Who shall encompass it and bear chains to it? Who shall measure its girth Or give it a name? Not you — girl with the pleading eyes — Nor you — man with fire fingers For where is its limit, And where its boundaries? 39 I Shall Perform Miracles I shall perform miracles on this night, Split rocks are nothing to me now, Will you forget soon, do you think, The firebolt and the thunder of my love? I shall perform miracles! Close your hand upon the treasures of ten thousand kings, Rub lamps and conjure fairies to make dreams with you Will you forget soon, do you think. The firebolt and the thunder of my love? 40 Now — I Ask Nothing of You Now — I ask nothing of you, Nothing whatever. All this story of hands and lips, All this wild-wind story of eyes and hair. Let it be torn across the middle — ^let it be the serial never finished. I shall run along without you through the great dark forests, You will run along without me through the great dark forests— never mind. Let it be a triumph — see? I say it loud and clear: "Now I ask nothing of you, Nothing whatever." 41 Elm Trees Make No Answer Elm trees make no answer to me when I ask them about God; They go gently sway — sway — sway To the wind's tune. They go gently swish — swish — swish To the moon's lips. And all this sound of grass Talking in its multitudes, Whispering under the dew, Flinging great wisdoms to the insect crowd. All this world of grass Going sway — sway — sway to the wind's breath. Going swish — swish — swish to the rain's lips . . . It makes no answer to me when I ask about God. 42 A Certain Man Lips that were made for the glorious tasks of love and speech, Kept hungerless and stupid through these thirty years. Hungry lips are the only producers, Sated dogs mawl each other by the fireside, They use the precious things for kennels Fm a great believer in the hungry ones. Who don't live in small towns and grow fat. 43 Elevator Man You in your little cage, and I in mine, Elevator man, We will span the wide world's heaven Far as we can. You to go up and down. Beating up and down, I to beat my wings out On the walls of Merchant Town. il 44 I Poets We are the paper gods, Endlessly, rhythmically, we blow into being, Greece, Rome, Britain, Texas, France. Everywhere making cute patterns of our thoughts, exotic axioms. Frantically gauging our friends' lusts, Getting terribly important, finally blowing away on the wind Or, only a few remain, The simple thoughted, The simple hearted and the simple tongued. 45 Words The dead words, the husks and phantoms come up and haunt me. Warning me "Keep away — do not go near the graveyard." Yet they all go to the graveyard in the end, Homer's, Virgil's, Dante's — in a spray of gold^— Shakespeare, Poe — Let mine go! 46 ^ You Leave Off Peace, O desk-sitters and pencil markers! Where the wind begins, you leave off. In your little cluttered rooms writing the price tags and the sales letters. It will be time to write "finis" soon. From your hands the pencils slipping, Where the wind begins, you leave off Pencil-markers, desk-sitters! 47 Five Feet High Five feet high — ^and here I stand above the whole wide world, Stand lonely and isolate — in spite of lips. Earth is no gas-light spectre — cannot scare me, run me here and there like leaves, All my body resisting under the sobs and convulsions Five feet of me coming out of the earth, but scornful and proud. Not to be touched — parts of me, by the tempests and sunshine, The voices and the entreaties. 48 Old Man Dawn sprang wildly to her lips, And the little hard breasts burst as a waterfall over the rocks. I the dark pine at the precipice neck, Lunged and was still, Then swiftly, as wild birds go to the kill. Toppled, and ran with her youth to the sea. They said I was wanton and cruel To have taken her youth at the height. To have matched the great might Of my years With her slender beauty and tremulous fears . . . I tell you, I lunged and was still. Then swiftly, as wild birds go to the kill, Toppled, and ran with her youth to the sea. . . . Pity me! 49 Lord of Girls Lord of girls in white organdy dresses, Little butterflies with desirous wings, And of the smell of valley lilies through the florists' doors, Your breath is the imagination of my soul, I go mightily transcendent with these wonders on me. Gathering strange flowers on a city's streets. 50 Beauty Sometimes I would not be so free with beauty, For it cuts me like a scythe, Me, not golden yet or ripe. Or even eager to be dead. Sometimes I must hold back my love, And jump upon my longing with hot feet. Or, when a wind blows northward some fine dusk, I shall gallop with myself away. And dreamers always have to pay For their dreams, I would not be so free with beauty. For it flays me Uke a flail. Me, not coarsened yet, and frail To blows. And the dreamer always goes To his cross. 51 You Will Never Go Picking Wild Flowers You will never go picking wild flowers any more, lady. You will never go hunting dragon flies, The old brook as he goes chasing through the wood, Won't have you as a passenger any more, Lady, Dabbling your bare feet in him, Licking his heart out with your greedy lips. Yes, I know It's easily understood. You must go stiff now. Furs in storage, Diamonds in vault, Limousine waiting. But I'll go back picking wild flowers. Lady, I'll go back hunting dragon flies. 52 The Loop Mighty-winged and austere as the memory of moonlit battlefields, The night comes over the shops. It makes a fairy tale with gigantic sesames to be opened sometime and revealed I hinge my faith, my whole soul's faith on the God behind these doors, The God that leaps flaming out of the windows, That lurks behind price cards and cost sheets. 53 Silent Ones Thank God for the silent ones, Who don't go about saying "I think this, you think that," Who don't shout how to save the world. I put my faith in them, I put my most private faith in them. They have a touch of God, Who merely said "Let there be light " And there was Ught. 54 li stream This stream flows through me forever, It cannot be denied. I have gone out silently nights and piled stones in its path, Only to see with the sunrise the sullen blue fleck That runs through me. It goes through no green fields sweet with the trill of birds. It goes through me, wayward as sand, Treacherous as dry sand, muttering to the water under it. I call it the stream of beauty, But I know secretly that it is the stream of pain. That carves me all over wrinkles and fine care, I know it is the wide-breasted mirage I plunge into and am lost. Though I love it — fiercely — both hands groping toward it — I know that in it are wild beasts with teeth to tear me When I gain the edge. 55 Losers I am sympathizing now with the losers, They who had no weapons to fight with, Who could only strike out blindly, and at last go down. It is they who make the world sweet, Who temper it with a million forebearances and understandings There is something in me crying out to be a loser! 56 Michigan Avenue Michigan Avenue, I know you are crazily wanton, You are full of women with their bodies bending like reeds, Their cheeks flaming and haunted By the thought of how love is coming to them. And you are full of men, At your club doors. Idly down the steps near The Lions, Dawdling with their slim legs And dandiness. But they are eating the women with their eyes. And going surreptitiously to look at nude pictures, Holding their hot longings back for gold And I see that you are full of little children. The blossoms Of this. 57 You Must Hurry You must hurry, hurry, hurry, if you want to catch my lips. They are made of stuff like spindrift. They have edged the clouds with gold. When the moon comes dancing nightward and the wind comes fast and cold, They are perched upon the highest star, they hold the great sky's heart. You must run as fast as fast, Nothing's fine that is not caught. Caught at noon today, caught when moons are white. You must snatch your fun from God if you want your fun. You must hurry, hurry, hurry if you want to catch my lips. They are racing with the sandstorms. They'll elude your fingertips, By and by. 58 Little Bo-Peep Little Bo-Peep comes back in you, And speedwells grow a brighter blue, Down the long paved street. Busy with feet. The fields come in. Strange, Is it not? You who have never lived a field, Were never born to the long hill's turning, When you slip with your little laugh The town's heart through. Daisies and goldenrod cry out in you! 59 God Made Three Things Good God made three things good: Hands that sweep the dust of dead things from our eyes, Lips that go out dusks and drink stars, And in the last of winter while the hedge is white, This fine gay faith that paints the Springtime in! 60 He Called Women to Him He called women to him as the sea calls home its gulls. Strange fantasies they dreamed upon him, Wild longings that would damn them were they guessed. Where he struck women fiercely with his love Little wings took root. He loved them for their hands, Mutely through the moon's hair reaching. He loved them for their lips. Blossoming Oh, the blossoms he could wear upon his breast! They loved him because God spoke in his legs. And where his hands fell on them. Little wings took root. Yes, he called women to him as the sea calls home its gulls. 61 Thanks Oh, I thank God now in the dream of dusk, When the stars slip out and the dark comes in, I thank Him now for the simple world, And the butterfly wings in the darkness curled; The bit of air I need to breathe, The water that I drink. The cows that do not hide their tails. The simple thoughts I think. 62 I Dawn The dawn comes to me sweetly, as a soft, new child Leans with its soul to drain a bit of milk. And I am new! O gray old city, Lift your head a moment from the pots and streets, Wash over me your meaning as a flask of fire, Tipped and spilled over at the altar's base. There are new augurings that go in blue-gray smoke Up from your shops. New lips that rain a torrent in me as of words. . Be still a moment, city, while the dawn tells tales I 63 Until Steel Strikes Branches twine about me, I am root in the soil, Buds swelling, hearts bursting, and the sun racing at noon to take the moon's veil. Trees lean toward me and speak rhythmically. Fingers linger on me as one sweet to touch, And hearts become fluid in my presence. I am all this until steel strikes me, All this, with blue waves licking at my feet. The tongues of Egyptian lovers and Greek singers flooding the air But shortly these steel tracks will strangle me, I shall go down into dust. As one who sank among many feet. As one who lifted from a little space of ground A frantic cry 64 All the Graves All the graves with their stiff, white tombstones, Unlike the princely hearts they cover — ^grassand flowers now They were not straight thus, And set in rigid rows, uncouth and cold. Oh, when I die, set me no such, Or, if I must be nailed to my six feet of earth. Set it, beseech you, crookedly, like my life. That leaned now one way, now the other. Never straight as stone, and never, so I pray to God — ^as cold. 65 God in a City Beautiful hills. Valleys And all the other things we think of when we think of God, Are not here. I find myself at a loss to formulate much good, And so I simply say "God!" As you call "Fido!" And let it go at that. 66 One Way There is a farewell that the splendid spirits say, Knowing the blossoms will be waving around them soon, Knowing there must be the last handclasp and the last look. It is not the farewell that looks back and regrets -—passions, distastes, No whining in it — no cringing to a God, And aenemic apologies. All they who are splendid people ready to be blown to their dust, Go defiantly and proud, as if they said this last rite at the altar base of courage and high dreams. 67 So Much of Wondering There is so much of wondering In every huddled thing, I never have known what to be — A slave, Or just — a, king. The peacock is a haughty bird, And flaunts a boastful tail, And yet it seems that I have heard Its pinions are quite frail. There is so much of wondering In every dinky thing I often get most drunk with joy To hear a fence-cat sing. And then, there are the little pools of water in the street. Where oil has dripped, and made a rainbow for your feet! 68 L. O. If I could be like him, with double chin. And eyes drawn into slits behind blue smoke, If I could be like him and take my sin As staid clerks take the air Perhaps I should not care. Perhaps I should not care how blue clouds race At noon, when bells are ringing twelve. Perhaps I should not care how dripping moons Whiten the night-sky's face. 69 He Stood Alone He stood alone and thrust his fists up Ohy the devastated spirits that have stood alone and thrust their fists up! They are mown grass now. Their songs are heard in the dry rustle of the marsh grass through the swamp, They are obliterate. And the young hearts that have gone out with the fascination of stars in them. Where are they? There is a path going through an autumn wood for them, The leaves crackle and dance like ghouls beating a requiem. Their young mouths stopped with hungry dust. Oh, the devastated spirits that have stood alone, And thrust their fists up! 70 Four Corners of a Room It is only four comers of a room That keep me from becoming God. I might leap out and spin stars, I might address myself to grass And long windy nights. But these four corners hold me, They have memories in them. They will keep me fast I am glad to be kept from being God. 71 What I Always Wonder What I always wonder is Where the great round moon's kiss Is. What I always seek Is the puffed wind on an apple Or a cheek. Little things I wonder at, Let the big go by, What have I to do with rain Or the lowering sky? Little things like grey, sleek mice, Little dwarfish men, How the flowers learned to bow At the speckled hen. What I always wonder is Where the great, round moon's kiss Is. 72 i Or to cap the climax faster How the clouds so noiseless race, And without disaster! 73 It Will Take Many Years It will take many years for me to learn about a hiU. Here Fve gone a quarter of a century, and don't know one yet, Don't know even about the feet of it, standing bucked up and strong against the soil. Don't know its lips that hold stars. If I could know a hill, I could know a valley too. And getting strength there, know oceans and God — and you. But it will take many years for me to learn about a hill. 74 Nuns I am glad you have your backs to me, I should dislike to see your mouths working so commonly on food The upward slant of your eyes as you look at each other, The slow movements that mean so much or little You eat carrots with bread, and drink black tea. As if you drank Christ's blood. Your little faces bandaged with white cloth — Everything in you shut behind bars, Even your eyes behind glasses. Your tongues behind prayers. And when you speak, I almost expect to hear foreign words flow from you, Words that have been cooped or hacked to pieces, Or made castrate For your lips. 75 Little Lonely World O little lonely world In the darkness curled Like hungry flowers What shall be the tale you tell, Dreary nights and long as well To the curious-eyed old moon? O little lonely world In the darkness whirled Like hungry hearts Is there not a swift, strong hand That will make you understand What the darkness is? 76 Il i It's No Good Running Sometimes my feet are leaded with bronze, I cannot shake songs from them, Sometimes my dander gets up And I run from them, But they always follow God is like that — he follows — he gets heavy in me. Or wherever I run, he keeps tagging after, Like a hungry dog. 77 If It Were Not for This Dream If it were not for this dream upon me, I should make my coin, I should grind my way to fortune with the little wheels, I should count the flying heels my slaves, to bind, I should count the eardrums and the fingers mine But I keep thinking I can touch the sky ^ With my Ups, 78 Things Understood It is the understood things that make life, The water closely understanding how the shore leans, The long, brown cliffs that dream upward to the sky, And you who make my lips a resting place, Careful and good. Oh, there should be mighty poems flung for the things understood The hand that gropes, knowing, however dark, another hand will reach. Hunger that knows food, Feet that claim paths. And in the dusk of Spring, When new birds sing, Two eyes piercing the dark to find — two eyesl 79 When We Die When we die, the whole bunch of us, Clutching our bit of grass and love, We shall only repeat over and over the old songs, We shall only cry over and over the old cries. . . . Did you think you had a new song. Or lips that hadn't already been kissed by a thousand lovers? 80 i ^th^^MMpm^i^imm