Ball on bright ball,
On the sky glowing,
The old dreams recall
Of a child’s knowing;
Eggs laid by a flying bird,
Jellies in globed curd,
Fruits on a strange tree,
By the winds blowing.
Now as each bobbing ball
Tugs at its holder,
I, who these dreams recall,
Feel hardly older....
Drinking enchanted Cup
From Balloons, I rise up,
Swaying on sea and sky,
Color and flight am I!
Appled Balloon Tree,
Arched efflorescence,
Grow shining globes for me,
Of joyous essence;
Until bright bubbles spill
From a cup fancies fill
Brimmed iridescence!
THEY PASS.
Down the long road they go—
Elinor, Mary, Flo—
Hasting toward Something.
Daisies rank high today,
Wild roses spread the way;
Laughing, light words, they say,
Speeding toward ... Something!
Peg, on the other side,
Watches their splendid stride,
Shrinking from Something....
Jennie, with broken tread,
Where a damp sun is shed,
Black shawl around her head,
Staggers from Something!
ON THE BEACH.
She sat in her gleaming robes
With the two hard-shining globes
Of her soul-less eyes, stare-fixed,
And said: “It is mine to know
How far he may come and go;
Mine to make him dance and sing,
His heart and his money fling
Away. He is mine to take,
And play with and bend and break;
The better for him I think.
We are put here to try each other.
Is he strong? He will not sink.”
The other woman pulled
The thin shawl over her head.
“If he is strong?” she murmured
“If he is strong,” you said.
“But are we strong?” It is ours
To spare, to shield, to tend;
It is his to be hurt and broken,
To struggle and to fend.
It is equal, therefore we suffer.
(He suffers most, I think.)
We are put here to help each other.
Are we strong? He will not sink.”