I walked last night in southern Brittany,
In deep, warm meadows where the rouge-gorge sang,
A land cliff-bordered, by an azure sea,
Far off, far down, the muffled buoy bells rang
In bays that stretched into a land of indolence,
It seemed the peasants, in a fit of folly,
Had fled and left me in sweet impotence
To range blue uplands, tinged with melancholy,
In amethystine pastures, smooth and lone,
Charmed by a tepid ocean's magic moan.
WHEN SHADY AVENUE WAS SHADY LANE.
When Shady avenue was Shady lane,
Before the city fathers changed the name,
And cows stood switching flies beneath the trees,
And old-time gardens hummed with dusty bees,
And white ducks paddled in the summer rain;
Then everybody drove to church,
And Shady avenue was Shady lane.
We lived on Arabella street, that too
Is changed—Kentucky avenue—
And where the tollgate stood beside the spring,
The phlox and hollyhocks
Once flourished by the box
Where the gatekeeper sat with key and ring.
A wiser looking man there never was,
In contemplative mood he smoked and spat,
There by the gate he sat
In an old dog-eared hat
And listened to the yellow jackets' buzz.
All this is gone—
Gone glimmering down the ways
Of old, loved things of our lost yesterdays,
After the little tollgate by the spring.
And the gatekeeper odd
Rests in the quiet sod,
Safe in the arms of God
Where thrushes sing.
Even the spring has gone, for long ago
They walled that in,
And its dark waters flow
A sunless way along;
And no one stops to wonder where they go,
For no one hears their song.
Only a few old hearts
Of these much changed parts,
Whose time will soon run out on all the clocks,
Catching the scent of clover,
Live all the old days over
When Shady avenue was Shady lane.
Δ'S VERSUS ☉'S.
Do you not see, you American people,
What the triangle means?
Mind, soul, body.
Man is to live and die
In a little metaphysical, three-roomed apartment,
Office, chapel, and kitchenette.
As I sat and listened to the words of the wise man,
I looked out of the window
And suddenly a feeling of great well-being came on me.
I saw that I was made of the same stuff as the hillside
And that tomorrow I would be flowers,
Or dance in the dust motes in the sun
And that all things are one.
Then two laughing children came
And threw a stone into a fountain
And the ring widened till it was lost in the pool.
Behold a sign!
And I awoke and the wise man babbled like a fool.
And yet, O Great Republic,
The symbol of your state church
Is a triangle, blood red,
Pointing downward.