Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/189

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Gasp of the breath, eye's blur,Blunder of mortal fingers, words too thick to say,Slight motions underneath the greyFaces of cloudAnd caroling, caroling, caroling loud,To keep the cold away.
Some will slouch,Lazy, brave,Others crouch,In a hidden cave,Hearing near and hearing far,Heavy steps from feet of stone,Tread the warping fields alone,Hearing far and hearing nearThe wind's hiss in earth's ear,FeelGround fall, and ground reel,Brittle footsteps stealUp the hill and down the cliff,Touching, snapping, making stiff,While granite footsteps, grinding numbUp the little hollow come.
Not to give inMen will go onTrying to sin, making vague love, kissing wanFaces. Trying to makeChildren with women,Trying to wakeHints of old hunger, bitterly breakFlesh that turns marble-hard, trying to takeLife in their arms for their small comfort's sake.
Women will not move as moveThose confident of love.Hurt like a torpid snake,Agony drags and stirs but cannot wake,

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