Her Monument
In a strange little homestead lit by electric light
is a passing builder’s fancy floating in the neon night;
the spirit of the artisan flits by, nocturnal blue,
and shoots the moon by swooping through the ashes in the flue;
she drifts in starry glimmerings beyond the crooked room
where comet dust is settling on the folly of her tomb. O,
let lie the tools of wisdom where your little homestead rises,
and cry Hurrah! for moonlit nights
and foolish enterprises.
Beguiling Moonlight
Every autumn evening, at the end of day,
The moon’s pale eminence sends out a silver-shining ray
A-glinting through the branches and glimmering on leaves
And shimmering on spiderwebs tucked underneath the eaves
And calling all the kitty-cats from shadowed alleys out
To torment all the night-birds still fluttering about,
And drawing from their houses the dogs behind the slats
Of shuttered sleepy windows to torment all the cats,
And pulling on the heart-strings of every sleepy child
To call each one to play out in the moonlight, in the wild,
To dance among the cat-kins and soar among the birds
And leap among the moon-mad dogs and sing the magic words
That cast a spell of loveliness on creatures so, and soon,
We’ll fall asleep, each one of us, under the autumn moon.
Enchantments
One night I stood upon the green
And every nightingale a-wing
Stopped in the linden trees to sing,
A perfect choir though all unseen,
Encircling in the meadow’s crown—
Night-blooming flowers ‘round my feet
Reflected moonglow, and their sweet,
Sweet breath rose up as stars fell down
In meteor showers to earth because
Its beauty was so great, so dear,
They longed to draw the night sky near
To all this peacefulness that was—
And while I stood upon that lawn,
Aching with joy, with ecstasy
As sharp as ice and flame in me,
I woke full wide, and it was dawn.
The day that came up in that place
Made all the green-wood hum and quake
With quivering for pleasure’s sake,
At seeing the full sun’s clear face,
Yet, basking in the softest fall
Of constant rain, as mist, to fly
In colored arcs across the sky
And shower prisms on us all—
The birds of day joined in that hymn
And coaxed the foxes to the green,
Contented beasts not often seen
In sun, and as I stood, a slim
Grey foal came, too, and nine or ten
Of rabbits, and the beasts all danced,
And I stood still, transfixed—entranced—
And blinked my eyes, and it was night.
