Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/203

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His cloud-streaked hair across my bosom slipsAnd down he broods in storm.Passion is freed, he rages in desire,His arms press lightning from me and I lieFormless and loose about him, higher, higher,He lashes me and drops me from the skyTo prostrate lands,And there beside me stretches in the sandsWhile strange dew shines against his hairAnd all hours long the paled moon creeps byTo watch us lying there.
My mind is dark, yet smoother is my breastThan any other woman's,—I must rest,Within these waters pain may slip from me,My mind is dark with shadows of a sea.
The MeasureEda Lou Walton


GOSPEL WITH BANJO AND CHORUS
Dear ones, I have gambled, I have rolled the bones. It's the truth, praise God!Hell was open, waiting with its howls and moans. There you are, praise God!Heaven's gates were opening, up steps the Lamb,"Sister, aren't you sick of sin?" "Yes," I said, "I am. And it's the truth, praise God!Sinner, aren't you going there, joining our procession—Everybody holy, making loud profession? And there you are, praise God!
Dear ones, I have wallowed belly-deep in sin. It's the truth, praise God!I'd looked into the puddle, devil shoved me in. There you are, praise God!

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