e was I.

Bravely the Blind One led,
I questioned from behind
"Tell me, where do we go?" She said
"Have courage... I am blind!"

We came at last to a cliff,
The Blind One plunged, and was gone--
I looked behind me, stark and stiff
The Old One stood in the dawn.

The deep crevasse was black
Beneath the dawning day,
I could not turn and travel back,
The Old One barred the way.

I could not turn aside,
(To lead, one dare not see)
I think that day I must have died
Such silence is in me.

The Last Illusion

Along the twilight road I met three women,
And they were neither old nor very young;
In her hands each bore what she most cherished,
For they were neither rich, nor very poor.

In the hands of the first woman
I saw white ashes in an urn,
In the hands of the next woman
I saw a tarnished mirror gleam,
In the hands of the last woman
I saw a heavy, jagged stone--

Along the twilight road I met three women,
And they were neither fools nor very wise,
For each was troubled lest another covet
Her precious burden--so they walked alone.

The Desert

Through dusty years, and drearily,
Two lovers rode across a desert hill
While patient love followed them wearily
Through the long, sultry day...
But when night came, the desert had its way,
Turning, they found love cold and still.

It lay so pitiful a thing,
Threadbare, and soiled, and worn--
"Why have we kept such starveling love?" she cried,
"Was it worth treasuring?"
And he replied:
"Bury it then! I shall not mourn!"

The wind came from the West,
It seemed to blow
Across a million graves to the sordid bier
Where lay their love. She said: "We will bury it here!"
They laid it low,
They rode on, dispossessed.

And all around
Rose silent hills against the darkening sky,
Wave upon motionless wave.
The night wind made a mournful sound.
The woman turned: "It is lonely here!
I am afraid!" she said.
He made reply:
"What is there left to lose or save?
What is there left to fear?
Our hearts are empty. Have we not buried our dead?"
She said, "I fear the empty dark, be kind!"
He said, "I am still here, be comforted!"

Then from its shallow grave
Their love rose up and followed close behind.

The Picnic

Here they come, in pairs, carrying baskets,
Pa