III
Now I lie awake at night, many nights,
Sometimes when I am ill,
Sometimes when I am well,
And think about money and rents in worn clothes
And feel the hunger of old women and backyard cats
As if it were my own hunger;
And the wind noses about for crumbs in a bit of newspaper
And flaps tattered dirty shawls over me,
And my thoughts are bent and old
And I shiver in the dark trying to bless God.
I wonder why God gives Himself to trees
And lets old women starve?
And backyard cats nose for crumbs in a piece of newspaper?
And why certain rich people are as well varnished against cold
As fat beech buds against the frost?
Do you suppose God is a Merchant
And sells this warm lustre from the stars—
Stars hung like bright drops of water in a big night wind—
And plans to make a profit from the rich?...
I am not an anarchist
Except in stars.
IV
When the dawn comes it brings the crows.
Caw! Caw! Caw! The crows!
The crow sleeps east but west he blows
To pick some carrion that he knows
Caw! Caw! Caw! It blows!
V
I travel East to meet the sun
With a gray heron battling up against the wind,
Above the nests that knew the ravens in their sleep,
Above the trees that toss the light,
Above the rocks that blossom into rose,
On towards the sun!
It does not matter now how I am clothed;
For my mind glitters with a thousand thoughts,
Star-sown, moon-shaped, sun-colored,
Amber-shining like polished foliage in a great dawn wind,
And the lustre on the heron’s breast
Is now God and now the Morning Star:
I travel East to meet the sun!
BROWN MOTHER
Brown Mother, Earth Mother, my love does it stir, is it living?
Is this seed-time in darkness? It is bleak, and the rain
Drums hard on this silence, makes heavy my pain.
I am blind yet the wind does search me like eyes that are old.
O, my Mother, sweet Mother, through the lengthening night it is cold!
Brown Mother, Earth Mother, the swell of your bosom, the scent of your hair,
They are life, they are death, two in one to your child,
Like the flame of your blossom, the sweep of your wild,
Or the primal red mud of life’s sowing.