Can we be dead?

Portrait of a Gentleman

Tower of stone
Rugged and lonely,
My thoughts like ivy
Embrace my memory of you,
Climbing riotously, wantonly,
Till the harsh walls
Are clothed in tender green.

Tower of stone,
Stark walls and a narrow door
Which speak:
"You who are not for me
Are against me,--
If you are mine,
Enter!"

But who would be prisoned
In unknown darkness?

Tower of stone
Rugged and lonely,
I dared not enter and I would not go
Till clasping you
My arms were bruised and torn.

From the Madison Street Police Station

I, John Shepherd, vagrant,
Petition the park commissioners
For wider benches.

My soul has long been reconciled
To the prick of gunny-sack,
(O well-remembered woollen fleeces!)
And rustling vests of newspaper,
And the chill of rubbers on unshod feet,
But to the wasteful burning of dry leaves,
God's shepherd's mattress,
Never!

Descendant of ancient ones
Who tended flocks and watched the midnight sky,
My forebears saw the Eastern star appear
Over Judean hills.

Where do your flocks graze, gentlemen?
Are there no sheep or shepherds any more?
All day long I sought the flocks
And came by night to a wide, grassy place,
Where I could sit and watch the stars wheel by--
And in the morning some one brought me here.

La Felice

La Felice, by the forest pond
looks through leaves to the Western screen
of Chinese gold that lies beyond
black trees and boughs of golden-green.

The little body of La Felice
weary of everything on earth
has passed from love to love, till peace
and beauty alone have any worth.

So still and deep the water lies,
so fiery-cool, so yellow-clear;
Here beauty sleeps! La Felice cries,
I will give myself to beauty here!"

The mud is smooth and deep, the weeds
beneath her feet are soft and cool,
ripples widen and glistening beads
of bubble rise on the forest pool.

The water reaches to her knee,
now to her thigh, now to her breast,
till like a child all peacefully
does La Felice lie down to rest.

She struggles like a fearful bride
with ecstasy--then La Felice
turns quietly upon her side
and over the sunset pool is peace.

The Journey

Three women walked through the snow
Beneath an empty sky,
And one was blind, and one was old,
And on