We pass over, beyond them,
They are forgot.
* * * * *
E. H. VISIAK
LAMPS AND LANTERNS
When I had sight, great glamour was
In myriad lamps of coloured glass:
Old lamps for new I never sold;
For old were new, and new were old.
And Chinese lanterns, paper globes,
Were Dragon Gods in tissue robes
That stood on air with squat, round shoon,
Beneath the thin, receded Moon.
STRANDED
_Dusk gathers. On the seaward hedge
The wild hops, hanging bright,
Gleam as a foam-spray flung on sedge
From a sea of golden light_.
A ship lies heavy on the sands
Above the warped, wan tide,
Whose waves thrust ineffectual hands
Beneath its murmuring side.
They cannot lift the monstrous hulk,
Nor break the ghostly spell;
The ship lies dreaming, all her bulk
Racked on a shoal of hell.
I hear the sullen timbers creak,
With echoings deep and numb;
No other sound: nor groan nor shriek;
For agony is dumb!
But at the seams, in every crack,
A beaded sweat appears:
The soul that's stretched on such a rack
Can shed no other tears!
* * * * *
ALEC WAUGH
RUBBLE
We may fill the daytime with friendship
And laughter and song;
But however the laughter may trip
And the words break in song
On a loved one's lip;
And however gaily the road may bend
Into the sky,
It must come to this in the end,
That we stand
And watch the last friend
Turn with a half-felt sigh
And a wave of the hand;
And silence is over the day,
Shadows fall,
And our happiness crumbles away
Like a wall
That nobody cares for,
That falls stone by stone
Till its grandeur is rubble once more,
And we are alone.
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