Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/128

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II
Sometimes I kneel and look aboveThat dark stairwayAt years to come;My fingers clasp my fears,Where my hopes go.Up there beyond that last, gray step,Afar,Within that roof of mist,What is that shape in flight,Dim, strong and slow?
III
"A wing," some say;Some answer, "Love";And some say, "NightAnd sleep."But I?I do not know.
The FreemanJeanette Marks


KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE
Fanny! If in your arms my soul could slip—Arms that my love first fancied—not the grave!Cities of Hate and Madness round me rave;And Love with anguished finger at the lipFares shelterless! These have my fellowship—Memory and Loneliness! What's left? To braveDeath! But before it Tragedy: not to craveYou changed or truly seen! The hemlock dripOf rains upon half-lived or ruined springs,Where you dance, smiling, numbs me now, and soothesHopes that once sought a beauty gone before.Losses have stripped me! But the vanishingsOf winter winds leave me to starry truths—Who once desired you, but desire no more!
Poetry, A Magazine of VerseEdgar Lee Masters

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