Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/58

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THE BOOK OF LU T'ANG CHU
In the reign of the great Emperor Lu T'ang ChuWise men were ordered to inscribe in a bookAll the great body of wisdom that men knew.Today I turn the pages, and as I lookI cannot see anything very new or old,And I wonder why it was worth the trouble, then,Of days and nights and a thousand labors untoldWhich the volume must have exacted from those wise men,But still we write—and the Emperor now is blownAs grey dust over the limitless Asian plains.Still we inscribe all that is humanly known,Although no ruler honors us for our pains—Recording a thousand wisdoms, all our own,To celebrate our good and glorious reigns.
Poetry, A Magazine of VerseArthur Davison Ficke


PRELUDE
He speaks Open your eyes. I have never seen them.
She answers I am afraid to open my eyes. . . . Be content to look upon my hands,
He speaks Your hands are moist and gentle, Your hands are long and slow And smooth as apples. Your hands are restful and far distant As nude hills beyond hot plains. Your hands are tender as young clover leaves.

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