EBCNyHAME Class_£LS353f Gopyrig]it'N?_^_ / ^-^^ . Ji«^-~' :■ ^: EBONY FLAME VINCENT STARRETT COVICI=M*^EE CHICAGO ■bfc^lCiN • ff ^^^g^RTITLEFAGE* 1'^ ^m^SSM rpRMAN-ROSSEl ■ypc— r- Copyright, 1922 Covici-McGee Chicago Three hundred and fifty copies of this book have been printed, of which this is Number...\5.Y... fhkO^ySiJfL.^ ^, CU69286*i:V Created by Printing Service Company Chicago ACKNOWLEDGMENT For courteous permission to reprint my far-scattered verses, a number of which have appeared over pseudo- nyms, I am grateful to many editors. Particular acknow- ledgment is made to the Bookman, the Smart Set, the Midland, the International, the Reviewer, the Double Dealer, the Magnificat, the Freeman, All's Well, Way- side Tales, the Chicago Evening Post and the Bookfellows.. V.S. To the W. G. A. L. M. S. B. J. S. CONTENTS A Hymn of Hate .... 66 Air de Grief 26 Amanuensis 40 Ambition 11 A Mood 47 An Evening in November . 50 An Iron Dog 8 Apology to Browning . . 31 A Rondeau of Sonnets . . 30 At the Birthplace of a Dead Poet 35 At the State Fair ... 74 Bed 71 Booby Prize 52 Bridge 63 Butterflies of Uganda . . 17 Changeling 14 Crescent Moon .... 10 Chimneys 5 Doxology to a Good Citizen 43 Dreamer 18 Ebony Flame 1 Encounter 15 Exercise for Left Hand . . 16 Flotsam 25 Footnote 73 Footsteps of Fear ... 54 God's Riding 19 Harlequin (Theodore de Ban- ville) 64 Hie Jacet 39 Hieroglyphics 13 House 21 In a Fair Garden ... 28 Laughter 49 La Vie Litteraire .... 75 Literary Note 32 Loneliness 48 Lyric 72 Mavis 2 Memorial Day .... 59 Michael 37 My Lord's Motoring ... 53 Nasturtium 45 Nocturne (Op. 1) . . . 51 Nocturne (Op. 2) . . . 67 On a Lady 70 Omen 61 Palimpsest 34 Pan 29 Panhandler 69 Panorama from an "L" Train 6 Pan Pipes 4 Paradox 9 Picture 20 Pierrot the Urchin (Paul Verlaine) 57 Poet as Peasant .... 23 Poetry 55 Possession 24 Rain 33 Retrospect 42 Return 22 Revelation 46 Self-Slain 38 Silver Poplar 41 Sirenica 44 Spring Song 60 To One Unknown ... 68 Train Wreck 12 Two A. M 62 Two Horsemen .... 36 Uncaptive 56 Veritas Praevalebit! ... 7 Vermilion Square ... 27 Ebony Flame EBONY FLAME Now, if you do not like the thoughts I think, Blame him who dwells within my well of ink: A wicked genie, with an evil eye . . . Who meets his gaze must either write or die. And, if you do not like the way I write, Remember that 'tis cousin to the night. To darkness (I, a simple messenger). When only does my dark companion stir. But, if this black connection you admire. Here is my hand, your chair beside the fire. Look! As I poise a pen and cry his name . . Out of the pit, a tongue of ebon flame! Ebony Flame MAVIS I shall call my daughter Mavis When, if ever, I have a daughter; That is a sweet and happy name, And I have loved it long and well. I am so pleased by the name of Mavis That I would give something very valuable — A bracelet, or a string of emeralds. Or a rare first edition of George Moore — To anyone who would conjure me a daughter named Mavis. I would teach her the splendor of her name, So that she would pronounce it as I wished, With just that shade of tenderness And just that shade of triumph. Early in the morning I would call her, "Mavis!" And then at intervals throughout the day Until at dark I said, "Good night, my Mavis!" And when she lay in slumber I would whisper "Mavis" until I, too, had fallen asleep, Lulled by the magic syllables of "Mavis." If she were here to-day, Already grown, and lovely as a rainbow, I should walk with her in the sunny streets, She leaning upon my arm and brightly smiling. And I should call her "Mavis . . . Mavis . . . Mavis." So that all them that passed Would marvel at the wonder of her name. Ebony Flame And envy me, gray-haired and proudly parental, Beside that miracle of nomenclature. She would perhaps dislike the name After the long years of my adoration. And tire of being called without a purpose Other than to allow my voice its pleasure; She would wish that her name were anything but Mavis- Edith, or Grace, or Katherine, or Mary; But I should reward her with a thousand presents Labeled with little cards, "With love to Mavis," So that I might find pleasure new and fragrant Writing down "Mavis" for my lovely daughter. Maker of lovely things, custodian of all wisdom. Give me a daughter That I may call her Mavis! Ebony Flame PAN PIPES The bank which in my wanderings Sometimes I chance to pass, Has handsome crystal chandeliers And doors of polished brass . . . once I had a copper cent; 1 didn't have it long. I spent my penny for a pipe And piped a little song. And many pass with eager tread Into the banker's place, And drop their dollars in his box, With shining eyes and face . . . O once I piped a little song For tired little men: But still they put tJieir dollars in And take them out again. Ebony Flame CHIMNEYS My window looks across a field Of leaping chimney-stalagmites; And some by others are concealed, And some arise to splendid heights; And over every house and tree There hangs a gas barrage of coke; But one small stack blows up to me A wistful question-mark of smoke. I cannot see the folks who light The fires beneath this masque of flues; Their deeds by day, their acts of night, Nor what the brand of coke they use; But from a window just below One little stack, most every day There looks a girl I do not know Who quickly turns her head away. Ebony Flame PANORAMA FROM AN "L" TRAIN Two sudden feet project beyond a sill; A whift of factory pickles fills the air; Madeline's mother summons, fiercely shrill; In a back window Susan dries her hair. Crooning, a child hangs from a balcony: Now, in a panic, it is snatched within. And a quick flash of startled lingerie Conjures a passing, backward-glancing grin. A fog of smoke drifts upward from a train Roaring beneath; a sparrow swears and scolds. Needle-like cinders tap upon the pane . . . "Dr. Tarr's Honey Bothers Coughs and Colds!" The black belt — shabby houses, row on row — Its second stories level with the eye. Wheels darkly past, and in a yard below A nigger mammy hangs white clothes to dry. Ebony Flame VERITAS PRAEVALEBIT! The glory that was Vansittart Lies underneath a ton of sod. There were no secrets to impart When he stepped off to meet his God. The whole town knew his history, And some were glad and others lied; But only little Kitty Cree Knew why he wept before he died. The splendor that was Kitty Cree A tarnished memory became When Vansittart's diablerie Was but a jest-inducing name. Her suicide set tongues a-tick; They wagged like pendulums about her, And said with pious rhetoric There always had been cause to doubt her. Ebony Flame AN IRON DOG In Memory Street, an iron dog Stands guard upon a rusted lawn: He looms up through a shifting fog Like leaping conscience in the dawn; But why he stands, and what he guards, The old policeman does not know, Though other dogs from other yards Smile wisely as they come and go. When sunlight streams about the place, The boys who make the present crowd Ride on his back, and slap his face, And play his bark is fierce and loud; But in the rain or in the fog He seems to listen and to wait. He is a very faithful dog . . . And there are scratches on my gate! Ebony Flame PARADOX My thoughts to-night are lone and far; One rang against a distant star. I thought the star plunged to the sea, And felt the waves rush over me. Then one who fished with silken net Drew forth the star, all shining wet. And flung it swiftly to the sky; And, lo! the fisherman was I. So, thoughts are strange, and life is queer. And stars are often very near; And fishermen with nets of dream Snare more than pebbles in the stream. 10 Ebony Flame CRESCENT MOON The sight, I think, is more than odd . . Outside the roadhouse kept by God The lounging stars, with youthful din, Shout down the banqueting within, And with their socialistic roar Persuade the Landlord to the door. The stars with mocking laughter fly Across the prairies of the sky, While after the vexatious gang God hurls a silver boomerang . . . I hope it will not turn and strike A kind old Gentleman I like. Ebony Flame 11 AMBITION Then to be dead on plains of sonant glory! — To kneel, myself beside, with strangled breath; To bear away the litter — spread the story — And cry above the bier that shining death! Mutely to stand, a multitude of mourners, Head bared, with somber eyes upon the road. Where, flag-draped, past the deeply-breathing corners, Slowly I pass to my strait, dim abode. To be the banner's boast, the bugle's sorrow; The volley o'er the mounded earth, the tread Of marching feet; the silence of the morrow, When, with a shock, I read that I am dead. To be the quill that lusters famous pages, The hand that drives the pen, the eyes that see The worship and the wonder of the ages . . . To be the grief, the joy, the mystery! 12 Ebony Flame TRAIN WRECK Around me were the tortured masks of men. The torn, sad shapes of women whose low cries Struck terribly into the heart . . . Again I shuddered, and with swift and fearful eyes Sought that familiar face I feared to find; Then cried out as, unharmed, I saw her kneel With wet, sweet face, now agonized and lined. Beside a broken form whose mute appeal Seemed somehow antecedently to be Part of the deepest thought and soul of me. But, as I would have hurried to her side With quick assurance, eager arms apart, A kindly hand persuaded me to bide A moment, and a voice that stilled my heart Spoke words of old affection, low and sweet; And he, my long-wept friend, was strangely near, Wbo with a little smile restrained my feet. Saying, "Dear fellow, wait! She cannot hear!" "Roger!" I cried in terror, "you are dead!" His fine smile held my eyes . . . "And you?" he said. Ebony Flame 13 HIEROGLYPHICS The way that smoke twists upward in the sky. The form a cloud takes, slowly drifting by, The dimness hanging over distant hills, The shapes of snowflakes on the window sills; The haunting faces flowers lift at dawn. The furtive tears I find upon my lawn . . . Little, familiar things in alien guise That overwhelm with breathless, swift surmise. The song a kettle sings upon the fire. The solemn finger of a sudden spire. The drone of bees and water, faintly heard, The silver query of a secret bird; The gaze of friendly beasts, a curious shell. The second echo of a far-off bell . . . Tremendous trifles! Bell and wing and glow! What do they mean? Sometimes I almost know. 14 Ebony Flame CHANGELING The gallows tree is straight and tall Save for the jutting single limb . . . And from a spot across the road I watched the tortured legs of him Who dangled there . . . The hangman laughed So merry was the sight withal. The hangman's daughter, standing near, Was lovely as a waterfall. Her yellow hair streamed over her; Her symmetry was starkly limned . . . I loathed and loved her, and it seemed Her scarlet roses glowed and dimmed As my wild eyes upon her fed. Her glance was free and bold, I thought . . . Our tryst was secret, when the dark Had fallen, where the corpse hung taut In the red moon . . . The cursed babe Was hideous as Hell, and we Shrieked as we knew the twisted face Of him who decked the gallows tree. Ebony Flame 15 ENCOUNTER Along the dead white boulevards of Time, Littered with dying hopes and grinning fears, I thought I saw my Past stalk forth one day Upon adventure bent . . . and as it trod the years A smile of exquisite bitterness sat upon The cynic lips, and a low laugh maliciously Taunted the shattered dreams along the way, Erstwhile a part of its own ecstasy . . . And then a-down the months the other way. Stepping from misty darkness into light, A fearsome figure strode ... I saw my Future stand Upon the dim frontier of coming night. With glittering eyes . . . And that first traveler Who scornfully the charnel way had trod. Grew limp before the menace of its gaze And fell to shrieking for a spurned God. 25 Ebony Flame EXERCISE FOR LEFT HAND Never rides a bark to shore Fair as at sea, Nor ever shines a sail White as across blue water. Never blooms a rose so red As that caressed And idly thrown away One knows not where. Nor ever comes a day Happy as one sweet other; Nor love Fragrant as love long past. . . Black barks in harbor. Silver sails close furled. Breath of dead roses Stealing my strength away! .... Long vanished day! Love, That sweetest love should always be The love of yesterday! Ebony Flame 17 BUTTERFLIES OF UGANDA Butterflies of Africa: drifting clouds of blue: Clouds of white and yellow drift: carnival of reds: Sunset flashes at the noon: shining fields of dew: Snowflakes stung to ecstasy: floating tulip beds! Mardi Gras of loveliness: brilliant masquerade: Wheeling, reeling companies of Lilliput hussars; Blue and white the canopy, green the velvet shade. . . In the night of wonderment, are you silver stars? 18 Ebony Flame DREAMER He was dismayed by life's harsh waking view; Only in dreams he fomid escape from dread; And so he laid him down to sleep, and drew The coverlet of water o'er his head. Then, as he slept, a murmur fled away: "Genius!" they whispered, wishing he might rise And place upon his brow the wreath of bay. . . Poor dreamer, with the dead, clairvoyant eyes! Ebony Flame 19 GOD'S RIDING By night, with flogging whip He rides the breeze, And dreadful hoofs make thunder in the hills. The servile grasses and the tortured trees Bow down and tremble where His trumpet shrills. Again He rides, and where His banners run Gay flowers quicken in the trampled sod. Earth leaps to beauty neath the goading sun, The pricking rowel on the heel of God. 20 Ebony Flame PICTURE Brown for the autumn leaves, Green for the tree; White for the flying sail, Blue for the sea. Gray for the solemn priest, Red for the lass; Black for the silent boy Dead in the grass. Ebony Flame 21 HOUSE The little house across the way Conceals some dreadful mystery. Its green-fringed eyes, day after day, Stare at my windows fearfully. The door that is its mouth, it seems, Shrieks mutely of an evil deed. I cannot still the voiceless screams . . . Why do the drooping willows bleed? 22 Ebony Flame RETURN In rooms long stranger to my tread My soul knelt down and wept; The gray walls whispered of the dead, The sad-eyed windows slept; And memories of perished years Were all that bade me stay . . . And those I kissed, with sudden tears, And those I bore away. Ebony Flame 23 POET AS PEASANT Miriam is Mary now, Muriel is Jane, And I make my lyric bow In another vein. I have hired a little place Out beyond the town; I am done with any face Not of country brown. I have leased a Thomas cat And a mottled cow; I shall wear a ragged hat And be happy now. I shall write a little verse Every summer day ; Listen to the birds rehearse. Merrier than they. Anthea shall Alice be; Beatrice is Sue — Oh, remember, Lalage, All of these are you! 24 Ebony Flame POSSESSION You who belong to another, And are mine; You who will wear another's name Where all may see, And mine, like a scarlet letter, Beneath your bodice — After the blasphemy of words is over. And sudden laughter shrills. Many will think to read your happiness On your gay lips — Poor, gay, sad, lying lips! — And he who will possess your fragrant husk Will marvel at the strangeness of your eyes . . . But you — You who belong to another, and are mine — You will read loathing in your mirror; Scorn In the gray eyes that give you stare for stare; Hate In the quick heart that, spite of you, was true. You will recall a day of scarlet splendor, And a cold flame will burn with icy breath. And you will come to me. Dry-eyed, Through the sobbing night. Ebony Flame 25 FLOTSAM Who cares for these slight songs I sing? — this rhyme That hides a soul's unuttered ecstasy? And will my little raptures for a time Outlive their parent? Once upon the sea I saw a chip, wave-driven, breast the flood That greenly strove its insolence to submerge. And laughed to see the valiant fragment scud Before the fury of the water's urge. Its curious malformation made it seem A relic of some child's abandoned play, Far journied from the quaint, quiescent stream Where it was launched and sent upon its way. So it may be some song that I have sung Will voyage for a space, impenitent: If it but echo that I once was young. That once I lived and loved, I am content. 26 Ebony Flame AIR DE GRIEF As a youth I longed to be Kindly, bearded, white, Spectacled and scholarly, Underneath a light Falling on a printed page Spread across my knee; In that placid picture, age Seemed quite fine to me. How the years have flickered by! Here is book and light; Here are spectacles, and my Hair is turning white. Beard alone has failed the scheme May it never start! In this triumph of my dream Age appals my heart! Ebony Flame 27 VERMILLION SQUARE On summer nights Vermillion Square Is very brave and proud. A band performs, and everywhere The people push and crowd. In couples and in droves they pass, Or lie upon the ground. They trample down the Sunday grass And scatter peanuts 'round. But in this curious parade I never join — not I! I pick a cool place in the shade And watch myself go by. 28 Ebony Flame IN A FAIR GARDEN In a fair garden, low beneath the moon, White Pierrot dreams of Pierrette's dainty shoon. No bigger than a roseleaf, and as fair, Nimble as poets' fancies, light as air. Dancing around the world to Pierrot's tune. How worn they seem! negligent buffoon, That, spendthrift, spends a golden afternoon In folly dreaming! Wake, for she is there In a fair garden. Ah, 'tis a sight to make a Bishop swoon! Bowered in roses drunk with fragrant June. , . See, she has crept into your blossom'd lair. Waken indeed. Friend, an you would not share Her kisses, or 'tis I that shall be soon In a fair garden! Ebony Flame 29 PAN In a dim grotto of the wood, they said, Great Pan lies dead. . . And then they flew Laughing across the sand, but paused anew. Clad in white chastity, upon the brink — Shy fawns at drink, Half frightened by The murmuring treetops and the water's sigh — Viewing the wood with half-alarmed grimace For a strange face. The goat-eared Pan, They said, bravado-wise, is not a man. But a dead god, an antique legend sung To charm the young. . . And then the sea Robed them in living jewels, lavishly; Clasped his wet arms about them — young and slim- Drew them to him. Beware, Old Sea! Do you not fear Pan's maddened jealousy? Do you think, too, that Pan is dead and cold, Deep in the gold Dead leaves of fall, Leaving all this to you as seneschal? Long since you heard the cloven hoof resound Upon the ground. Since your pale glass Gave back his image. Ah, the years may pass But Pan lives yet, for love is more than death! Heard you a breath Hot in the wood Where in your youth a shaggy lover stood? Then not too far, old graybeard charlatan. For I am Pan! 30 Ebony Flame A RONDEAU OF SONNETS (In Memory of Andrew Lang) What sonnet do you fancy? — if indeed You fancy any, now that verse is freed! Shall it be Swinburne, Aldrich, or divine Rossetti that I read you. Friend of Mine? — Or for what other shall you intercede? So be it! Let us sate our sonnet greed With him who satisfies that special need — With Andrew, eh? — And so, for auld Lang syne. What sonnet? Let us begin — and you, my friend, shall lead, And I shall follow on a second steed Borrowed from Villon or some other fine Old rascal. Voila! First a stoup of wine, Then plunge to any page you will, and read What's on it! Ebony Flame 31 APOLOGY TO BROWNING For that my wisdom was small, For that my ego was big, Once I sneered bravely withal; Cried, for your verses — a fig! Thought that your thought was involved (Maybe it is — never mind; When it is puzzled and solved There is some substance behind) ; Thought that your muse was a clod, Heavy, and awkward, and dull; Thought that your prating of God Made me some kind of a gull. Well, I was young — very young; Fond of a dulcimer meter; Long as to hair and to tongue — Yes, I thought Tennyson sweeter. Not that you care in the least That I spoke of your rhyming as clowning !- But I, who came late to your feast, Am humbly a penitent. Browning. 32 Ebony Flame LITERARY NOTE Books and cooks are closely wed In my fond and foolish head. Brain and belly are befriended By those dispensations splendid — Yea, my heart and soul are joyed When I hear such words employed. I should like a restaurant Up against some bookish haunt, That in either I might find Food to satisfy the mind — Solid fowl and flesh, or airy Salad for the solitary. Ebony Flame 33 RAIN It wonders me that I should love the rain, The long swift rain that rivers in the street; That whispers stories sinister and sweet In the dull rhythms of its endless strain. Fiercely I breathe its ancient mystery, Now as it dirks the night with lambent gleams. And ever when the yellow sunlight streams Its antiphon mourns in the heart of me. 34 Ebony Flame PALIMPSEST The canopy of blue and gold That roofed my morning years Is clouded with a mottled mould, And big with iron tears. There once upon a vellum sky Youth's eager hopes were spread. What critic hand has written high These symbols bleak and dread? Ebony Flame 35 AT THE BIRTHPLACE OF A DEAD POET Still greens the grass upon the sod As when he tramped these country lanes, And where the orchards lift to God Their heavy fragrance after rains, Stand still the trees he loved and knew, The awkward fences that he climbed. . . The sky above is still as blue As when he learned it could be rhymed. I do not see him in the trees Nor by the runing river's brim; Such breathless humors, while they please, And would have been no trick for him. Are shut from me by many veils. I walk the ways he must have known, And try to fancy in the trails His footprints pressed beneath my own. 36 Ebony Flame TWO HORSEMEN Life came riding up the vale On a yellow steed, Helmet off; his coat of mail Shining like a polished pail — Thus it was decreed. "Here's a penny for you, Lad. We are brothers! Are you glad?" This was Life, indeed! Death came riding up the lane On a sable steed, Visor down; his coat of chain Black as was his horse's mane — Thus it was decreed. "Here's your penny, Sir Disguise: You can not conceal your eyes!" This was Death, indeed — This was Life, indeed! Ebony Flame 37 MICHAEL My lover's ship did not go down: It sailed into the setting sun. I watched across the sands from town Until the golden goal was won. Upon a sea of molten glass It sailed across the world's red rim; With spreading sails I saw it pass Into a glory none shall dim. Yet there are some that wring their hands And will not cease their doleful cries . . I look across the blazing sands And smile into my lover's eyes. 38 Ebony Flame SELF-SLAIN He was come to the edge of the wood, And he paused on the quiet frontier. The darkness clung close like a hood, And there splashed in the silence a tear. . Down, down to the place where he stood Echoed starkly the footsteps of fear. He knelt in the dew, as to pray . . . And his riven frame pitched to the knoll; And a wisp of smoke floated away To what mystical, ultimate goal! There was no one to wonder or say If the darkness went out of his soul. Ebony Flame 39 HIC JACET Here lies John Lorengood — a simple name, Unknown to history and to acclaim. The willows droop across his bed of earth In this quaint village where he had his birth. No clash of voices breaks upon his rest With futile praise. A bird has made its nest, And feeds its young, and sings, above his head, While he sleeps late — blest privilege of the dead. John Lorengood, perhaps your life was spent In this obscurity and this content. No bloody charge your awful glory weighs, No book the tumult of your soul betrays; Deserving much, you have deserved repose. And the recurrent tribute of a rose. . . I who with fatuous trust pursue the flame Falter before the grandeur of your fame. 40 Ebony Flame AMANUENSIS What eager urge directs my thought And drives this stubborn pen? — Fills me with memories, wonder-fraught, Of clouds and trees and men; Torments me with a dream of fame Immortal and benign . . . ? O wondrous and consuming flame That marvels to be mine! Is it perhaps some deathless shade That whispers secret words Wherewith the world I might persuade And sing beyond the birds? that, when I have grasped his theme With sudden passioned cry, He should forsake that valiant dream And leave me — only I ! Ebony Flame 41 SILVER POPLAR Nothing more lorn, more lone, more lovely is, I think, than this . . . A silver poplar lonely on a hill, The sun behind. The air at first is still, But a light whisper quickens, and a breeze Pushing through other and more distant trees, With faintly pattering, far off tapping drums And whipping banners comes; Rushes across the void . . . The crisped leaves Bend double as the foliate spendor heaves. An argent glory shimmers, quivers, dances, Till in the sunny flame of darting lances The foam of seas Sparkles in sunshine, and the mounting breeze Stirs the quick leaves to keening melody; A curious sorcery That whispers at the heart like distant play Of rippling water in a little bay. . . And then the swelling wind becomes a roar, And gaunt waves dash upon a rocky shore In a white smother, and at length subside Into the garrulous murmur of the tide. . . In the cool shadow of the hill I lie While the breeze palters by. 42 Ebony Flame RETROSPECT An hour ago the lights were fey, And women moved with silken grace, And music made the maskers gay, And laughter eddied through the place. An hour ago! but all is gone: One figure only I recall — A girl with hair of ruddy dawn Who checked my garments in the hall. A lot of famous folk were there Who in my vision dim and fade. It was, I think, a brave affair — Perfume and powder, gold and braid! But now 'tis all a vague surmise: One presence only I recall — A girl with lovely, scornful eyes Who checked my garments in the hall. Ebony Flame 43 DOXOLOGY TO A GOOD CITIZEN What shall we say of Avondale, But lately of our planet? — Save that he carried on a tale When someone else began it; Save that he voted nearly right On every proposition; Save that he stayed at home at night And held a fair position; Save that his fervor was derived From other people's thinking; Save that his seven children thrived And none inclined to drinking; Save that he played a steady hand At whist, and bowled not badly; Save that he loved his native land, His wife and babies madly; Save — 'Tis a simple, poignant tale. This slight suburban story: But, 0, from such as Avondale Deliverance, Saints in Glory! 44 Ebony Flame SIRENICA Your eyes are pools of purple moonlit wine Across whose sweep gleam fiery flecks of gold: False beacons crying harbor unto mine. . . I drown within the madness that they hold. Your eyes are braziers of caressing fire, Consuming tongues of flagrant yellow flame. Pile high the fagots on my funeral pyre! The smoke of torment shall inscribe your name. Your eyes are daedal wishes. they gleam Now wistful-sweet, now passionately wise! Danger and death are in their burning dream: And yet . . . and yet . . . Heart of my Heart, your eyes . Ebony Flame 45 NASTURTIUM Amber-maiden, sun-caressed, Dewy, nectar-brimmed. In such splendor are you dressed, In such glory limned . . . Are you something more than flower Nodding in your orient bower? What do you become at eve — In the langorous night? May a lover then achieve Favor in your sight? All life's rapture I would risk For your smile, dear odalisque! I shall leave the tear-faced rose To her buccaneers. Jilt the red-cheeked Jacqueminots Spite of all their tears. Amber-maiden, lovely flower, Pray you name the blissful hour! 46 Ebony Flame REVELATION As out beyond the heedless, roaring town, In Crusoe wonder, threading forest ways, I walked, the lanes in ribald beauty swam, Drunk with desire, beneath an opal haze. The mysteries of pulsing root and branch. Of joyous hoof and wing, and odorous breeze. Charged with a tacit import seemed, and — mute — I listened to the trees. Then down a strange and yet familiar path, Borne upon heaving turf, in breathless thought I passed, where burning beauty shone about The things no hands for other hands had wrought. A secret whisper thrilled upon the air; Startled, I heard a flattered woodbird call ... And suddenly I fled away before The terror of it all! Ebony Flame 47 A MOOD Outside the rain falls sullenly. The day Was never dreary as this day, it seems. Gay voices near me laugh the hours away; They find no time for melancholy dreams. What is it on my spirit seems to pall? — - Grim something that I cannot put away! I have no hurt, no sorrow to recall — - And yet — and yet how sorrowful the day! 48 Ebony Flame LONELINESS The whistle of a train at night Sometimes seems more than heart can Lear. I do not see the rushing light Nor feel the hot exhaust of air; I only hear the distant tread Of wheels, and then that keening cry — But all the loneliness and dread Of life is in that long "Good bye!" Ebony Flame 49 LAUGHTER Your laughter is a careless brook In sunshine speeding. Your laughter is a yellow book For furtive reading. Your laughter is an icy stream In which none dives. Your laughter is the slim bright gleam Of cruel knives. Your laughter is a child that runs With guileless prattle. Your laughter is the crash of guns In sudden battle. Your laughter is a spray of bells On Christmas morning. Your laughter is a gust of Hell's Unbridled scorning. 50 Ebony Flame AN EVENING IN NOVEMBER Outside, the lashing, swirling rain, And a cold wind that cut the heart: But, 0, within, soft candles in the dusk. And a queer Oriental lantern, hung apart In a far corner, near the firelight glow, Over heaped pillows of a quaint design . . . And one beside me in the shouting silence. Looking with eyes of startled understanding into mine. Ebony Flame ^ 2r NOCTURNE (Op. 1) We called him something loud and free And tossed him through the door. The night received him patiently. As somewhat of a bore — He'd gone that way before. He left behind him on the bar And scattered 'round the place, A hat, a cuff, a chewed cigar. Some pieces of his face — And the disputed ace. He didn't mind our coltish play; He took it with a leer; But it was pitiful the way He whimpered for his ear — We'd dropped it in the beer! 52 Ebony Flame BOOBY PRIZE It seems I trumped an ace — my partner's ace — And bid too high, and paid too great attention To airs and fingers in the fourth dimension. I should, it seems, have watched my partner's face. Her face — Ye Gods! Ah, well I won a prize: That painted kewpie on the mantel there! In it I see again the vapid stare Of that depraved old dromedary's eyes. Ebony Flame 53 MY LORD'S MOTORING He was an arrogant cat, My Lord, Or ever he heard of Henry Ford. He sat in the windows, east and west, Amber eyes and a snow-white vest, Watching the silly children run, Staring haughtily at the sun: Nothing disturbed him in the least, Nor touched the pride of that stately beast. Then, on a day, we went to ride I in the wheel-seat, he beside. Never a move that advertised He was the slightest bit surprised; He sat up straight as a millionaire, A snob of snobs in a parlor chair — But once, when I missed a boy at play, I thought he winked in a knowing way. 54 Ebony Flame FOOTSTEPS OF FEAR Who travels this cold road alone by night? Footsteps! They follow, follow, follow after! There is no human thing in mortal sight. . . Footsteps ! . . . and mocking laughter ! They echo in my brain, they slowly beat Upon my heart with careful, strange insistence. They whisper in the long deserted street . . . Laughter, across the distance! Why is the moon so cruel and so white? White is her shadow in the black street canyon. Footsteps that pace beside me. . . But the light Reveals no dark companion. Who travels thus beside me through the dark? The road is endless, and the day comes never. . Footsteps of fear, and I shall hear them— Hark! — For ever and for ever! Ebony Flame 55 POETRY It is a little room, a secret room, Within a palace falling to decay. Wherein I tryst with one that was myself. . . And, 0! the world is more than life away! It is a little ship upon the sea, Bravely adrift, I know not whither blown. Nor where the low reef of the harbor lies . . . But a far bell calls, and I sail alone. It is a little gate beside a road, And strait the way to scornful eyes may seem, But who shall lift the latch and pass within May pluck the fruit of his unconquered dream. 56 Ebony Flame UNCAPTIVE Whose eyes have looked on hidden things Nor hate nor walls have strength to bind; He journeys on an ageless quest, His voice is in the changing wind. They fettered steel about his soul, They put his body in a cell, But while a single cloud looked in His covert chamber all was well. Upon his wall the pontiff moon Shadowed the menace of his bars: Joyful, he breathed the strength of night, And walked among the laughing stars. Then shall they hurt us as they will, So that the secret glory gleams. For the captivity of life There is the recompense of dreams. Ebony Flame 57 PIERROT THE URCHIN (Paul Verlaine) This is not Pierrot on the green — Vague Pierrot, sporting half unseen — 'Tis Pierrot, Pierrot, Pierrot! Pierrot, the urchin, madcap he, Stripped of his mask and mimicry — Ah, Pierrot, Pierrot, Pierrot! Ahhough no bigger than a mite The rascal's eyes are all alight; With sparks of steel they're flaming. They dance with demon lights, it seems; They leap with sudden, scornful gleams For a gay poet's shaming. Lips red as woimds, whose scarlet pout Is slumberous luxury's redoubt; Face fair as lily's lining. And splendid although somewhat wan — Such face as loves to gaze upon The golden things and shining. Supple and lithe his girlish form, Voice soft and, like a woman's, warm; Mature his shape, though elfish. His thrilling tone, his raiment gay Proclaim a lover, seeking aye To sate each pleasure selfish. 58 Ebony Flame Go, Brother — Comrade — where they teem, And play the devil, seek thy dream Where'er thou wilt — thy Pierrettes — And be the soul unscrupulous, High, noble, lively, infamous. Of these our simple spirits. Grow, Scapegrace, others are not shy! Thy bitter riches multiply; Enhance thy reputation. Thy virtue, and thy people's love! Thy grimace is the symbol of Our simple congregation. Ebony Flame 59 MEMORIAL DAY Drums in the city street Monotonously rolling, And marching feet In the measures of the beat, And flags. And far bells tolling. . . Sabbath in the warm breeze; By the graves, weeping. Birds on the lilied air, Caroling, leaping. And sudden blossoms where Beneath the trees The dead are sleeping. Bugles in the twilight Piercingly calling. Bugle echoes, clear and far, Falling... falling... (From what bright star? And Whose tears do they seem To them that dream?) And then, Again The muffled drum, the tread of feet. And hearts that beat With long thoughts to the throbbing drum. The sobbing drum, The drum . . . Drum. . . Drum . . . 60 Ebony Flame SPRING SONG Now crack with mirth your wintry lips, And loose your limbs to gladness, And hang a garland on your hips And leap with pleasant madness. Now pitch away your book of dreams And hark the highway calling: Again the minnesinger streams Down pebbled trails are brawling. Now songbirds blossom on the haw — Shall not the poet sing When trees o'er naked fingers draw The glad green gloves of spring? Ebony Flame 61 OMEN Apes in scarlet petticoats Dance a rigadoon — Pennies for the broken notes Of a murdered tune. Grind your organ, Angelo, For the tickled throng; Summer's skipping down the row- Hey! Another song! 62 Ebony Flame TWO A. M. The clock hands creep around the clock. . . A milk cart rattles down the block. . . And once more silence flutters down Darkly upon the sleeping town. My window faces to the breeze. . . The secret voices of the trees, Half -heard, half -felt, cry in my ears. . . My heart is strange with eager fears. To-morrow, I shall grieve that I Sat up so late to watch the sky; But now . . . Who knows what hidden sight May be revealed to me this night! Ebony Flame 63 BRIDGE The bridge is long and white and fine, And lined with rails of polished brass; At night its carbon clusters shine On laughing throngs that pass and pass. Beneath, the singing water flows As smoothly as a pictured stream, Dappled with yellow gleams and glows Like sprites that vanish in a dream. Only within my furtive nook Does shadow shield from kind alarms . . Ay, chuckle, Water, while they look! I shall sleep soundly in your arms. 64 Ebony Flame HARLEQUIN (Theodore de Banville) From the cat he steals his grace, From the dog his whiskered face. He has taken from the king Of his purple robe a string; From the Jew a bit of yellow; From the Spring this lawless fellow Has purloined a bit of green, And the whole, with solemn mien, He has made a garment gay To wear upon a holiday. Roimd his waist a scarlet belt Holds a slapstick, often felt. On his feet are scarlet shoon; With quicksilver — gay buffoon! — They are lined; and how they prance In some ancient, pagan dance! At his hat I laugh aloud: Did he carve it from a cloud? He's an organ grinder's ape — \e.i how lithe his graceful shape I Thus, attended like a king, Skillful as a Jew; like Spring Come with April's flowering bloom. Hums he like a busy loom Through the cities and the fields, Seeking all that Springtime yields: Followed by coy Columbine, Ebony Flame 65 Amorous and half-divine, Who, the more the monster beats, More adores his knavish feats. With what hideous flutterings, Like a moth with painted wings. Now he clasps her fluid charms In his careless, cruel arms — Courts, cares=es, entertains In conquered and enchanted lanes, ^'iliere Xature sleeps the siunmer through And lesser gods make rendez\ous — Till, tired of kissing, with a shrug He offers Toby's ugly mug — C'est Harlequin! 66 Ebony Flame A HYMN OF HATE Beside Francesca Brown, my wife's dear friend, lago was a big, good-natured slob; And if some unofficial vengeance end Her vile career, 'twill be a splendid job. And I shall caper happily what time They tell me she has fled to occult shores. Who never let the sun to zenith climb Until her tongue had probed a dozen sores. Beside Francesca Brown of fair repute, Who lives a blameless life, and has a class, "Yond Cassius" was a blundering recruit, And Ballantrae a simple, witless ass. Muse of Malice, give me power to pen For decent ears and eyes the thoughts I hold Concerning one Francesca Brown, and then The nerve to tell her what she should be told ! fin Ebony Flame ■ il NOCTURNE (Op. 2) It is a very strange and curious thing To see a person hanging by his thumbs, While round about him, in a narrow ring, March little demons with exulting drums. It is an awe-inspiring sight to see One's oldest friend turn slowly inside out. Then hang his watch upon a friendly tree, And greet his organisms with a shout. It is a shocking thing to watch a man Reduce himself to gravy, in a pot; - Then pour himself into a cooling pan And weep because the mixture is too hot. It is a solemn thing to play with verse, And rhyme with shadows purple, green and white: The wonder is it isn't often worse. After such dreaming as I did last night. 68 Ebony Flame TO ONE UNKNOWN Once as I passed you in the street You turned away your head, And looked into the windows of A barber shop instead. I cannot think in such a place You found what you would seek. Oh, was it that you liked me, Girl, And feared that I would speak? Ebony Flame 69 PANHANDLER Buchanan talked in sums of large importance, His figures dazzled as his schemes amazed; The brilliant sense and flow of his exhortance Conquered, and left one feeling slightly dazed. Millions for him were easy computations; From oil to ermine ranged his arguments — But always, at the end of his orations, One found Buchanan needed fifty cents. § 70 Ebony Flame ON A LADY Poets her conquering beauty tell in rhyme, And Princes polish lyrics to her grace; Bishops are writing ballads — even Time Himself has written lines upon her face. Ebony Flame 71 BED This is the very same bed; In it my grandfather died. Well I recall what he said: "This is the very same bed ..." Just that— and next moment was dead. Now I am here with my bride. This is the very same bed; In it my grandfather died! 72 Ebony Flame LYRIC Lady, if you speak the truth With your eyes of granite, Little love and less of ruth Holds you to our planet. Yet the pressure of a knee Mutes the strings of reason. Soul, if this he treachery, Make the most of treason! ^ Ebony Flame 73 FOOTNOTE Thus the prince in the fairy tale tarried: There was singing of harps and bright laughter; And thus were the true lovers married, And happily lived... ever after? Ever after! So endeth the pages As writ by the great versifiers. "There were giants," they said, "in those ages," Ay, giants — and subsidized liars! 74 Ebony Flame AT THE STATE FAIR Over the heads of the yokels, High on a swaying wire, Mademoiselle Lepelletier Dances and slithers and slides. Slim her ankles, and round her calves Under her foaming laces. And the rustics gaze with wild desire And feast their Puritan eyes. But one goes home to his light o' love And eyes her with disapproval, And tries to imagine that dreadful girth High on a swaying wire! Ebony Flame 75 LA VIE LITTERAIRE Then, For the last time he dipped his pen Into his heart, and wrote "The End." It seemed a bugle note Cried as he moved his hand across the sheet, And something swelled and rattled in his throat. Ah, it was sweet! Yet in his heart the pain still lingered on, A dull gray memory of agony, Of turmoil and of tortured reverie Often from dark to dawn; The bittersweet of truth revealed, confessed , . . It was himself he wrote into the book; The wounds were his, they raged yet in his breast. He was the victim of the rack and cross. The torn, bruised thing he painted; his the loss, The gain, the doubt, the joy, the sorrowing. Let them but look Into his pages who had eyes to see And hearts to understand and sympathize. And they would know his secret agony. His fears, his courage, and his suffering. These were not lies. Decked out with tinsel trimmings and fine lace, To while away an hour of idleness, 76 Ebony Flame But the dark record of a great disgrace, And victory born of a great distress . . . And so the book went forth into the world, Hurled Into the maelstrom of contending wit And specious fancy, lone as any leaf Blown down the tides of commerce; and in time He read what they who criticized had writ. . . One said it was a litany of grief, And gibbered of its melancholy splendor; One from the paper jacket stole a phrase. Agreeing that the love scenes were most tender. Whilst one who thought to praise, Although annoyed, Spoke learnedly about himself and Freud, And turned a clever rhyme. . . A charlatan of brilliant reputation Declared the fellow lacked imagination. /tf! Vj Mm . ^' w s -^^=^ Iki S>^^^^: ^m^..:'-'"""'"'^'^-'-^.^