[AN IMPRESSIONIST PICTURE]
"How do you do," I said; the yellow coat
She wore was like a golden serpent's skin.
I took her white gloved hand, my voice grew thin
As tho' her hand were tight about my throat.
The air was green with heat, a flaccid note
I did not fail to see, for heat might win
My cause; her weary soul looked from within
And saw the white sails flapping on my boat.
"Coolness and rest" my eyes were whispering,
In Isles where morn grows never afternoon,
Where Passion buds forever with the Spring,
Nor wanes with shifting tides of sea and moon,
But—"How are you?" she said, and that was all,
And tho' she smiled, she passed beyond recall.
[SUCH HELP FOR SINGING]
Such help I have for singing!
The little winds a-stir
Touch gently on the lisping leaves
Like dainty dulcimer.
The sights and scents of April—
What dreams, what themes they bring—
While gaunt crows cry their gasconade
Down all the ways of Spring.
Such happy help for singing!
And round, below, above
The air is thrilling with my joy
Of love, love, love.