Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/150

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VAIN GRATUITIES
Never was there a man much uglierIn the eyes of other women, or more grim:"The Lord has filled her chalice to the brim,So let us pray she's a philosopher,"They said; and there was more they said of her—Deeming it, after twenty years with him,No wonder that she kept her figure slimAnd always made you think of lavender.
But she, demure as ever, and as fair,Almost, as they remembered her beforeShe found him, would have laughed had she been there;And all they said would have been heard no moreThan foam that washes on an island shoreWhere there are none to listen or to care.
The New RepublicEdwin Arlington Robinson


LOST ANCHORS
Like a dry fish flung inland far from shore,There lived a sailor, warped and ocean-browned,Who told of an old vessel, harbor-drownedAnd out of mind a century before,Where divers, on descending to exploreA legend that had lived its way aroundThe world of ships, in the dark hulk had foundAnchors, which had been seized and seen no more.
Improving a dry leisure to investTheir misadventure with a manifestAnalogy that he may read who runs,The sailor made it old as ocean grass—Telling of much that once had come to passWith him, whose mother should have had no sons.
The NationEdwin Arlington Robinson

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