Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/206

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Somethin' made me say, "It's Jersey!" Somethin' mean . . . He hollers, "Hell!Now you done it, sure as shootin' . . . Now you bust the spell!"
Sure enough, the towers and castles Went like lightnin' outa sight. . . .Nothin' there but filthy Jersey On a drizzly night.
Vanity FairJohn V. A. Weaver


CLIFFS
I took my longing up a cliff, All alone, I looked on the sea—The surf, spread out like fans of lace Rustled a soft sound up to me,  A gentle sound like sliding beads,  And wind hummed over the weeds.
Long and long ago a cliff Lovers out of luck would leap,And fall to cool their hearts like stones, Or break like waves and fall asleep.  The sea now is the same, I knew,  And any cliff, I thought, would do.
I laid down my frock and frills, I took gold pins from my hair,And tip-toed to the tasselled edge, Whispering a prayer,  That nothing else of me but foam  Should remain to carry home.

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