1. Impromptu My mind is a puddle in the street reflecting green Sirius; In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their branches like beckoning hands. We eat the grain, the grain is death, all goes back to the earth's dark mass, All but a song which moves across the plain like the wind's deep-muttering breath. Bowed down upon the earth, man sets his plants and watches for the seed, Though he be part of the tragic pageant of the sky, no heaven will aid his mortal need. I find flame in the dust, a word once uttered that will stir again, And a wine-cup reflecting Sirius in the water held in my hands. 2. Blue Water Sea-violins are playing on the sands; Curved bows of blue and white are flying over the pebbles, See them attack the chords-dark basses, glinting trebles. Dimly and faint they croon, blue violins. "Suffer without regret," they seem to cry, "Though dark your suffering is, it may be music." Waves of blue heat that wash midsummer sky; Sea-violins that play along the sands. 3. Prayers for Wind Let the winds come, And bury our feet in the sands of seven deserts; Let strong breezes rise, Washing our ears with the far-off sounds of the foam. Let there be between our faces Green turf and a branch or two of back-tossed trees; Set firmly over questioning hearts The deep unquenchable answer of the wind. 4. The Enduring If the autumn ended Ere the birds flew southward, If in the cold with weary throats They vainly strove to sing, Winter would be eternal; Leaf and bush and blossom Would never once more riot In the spring. If remembrance ended When life and love are gathered, If the world were not living Long after one is gone, Song would not ring, nor sorrow Stand at the door in evening; Life would vanish and slacken, Men would be changed to stone. But there will be autumn's bounty Dropping upon our weariness, There will be hopes unspoken And joys to haunt us still; There will be dawn and sunset Though we have cast the world away, And the leaves dancing Over the hill.
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