THE RAILROAD STATION
A station is a place of miracle:
So many trains passing and repassing,
So many thoughts coming and going,
So many greetings and farewells!
Any surprise might happen there:
God come and go,
Street cries turn to stars,
Dust of blown rubbish whirl to aureole!
Thus, in such a place,
Love met me once.
That day the shining tracks seemed leaping toward eternity,
And we heard the street cries sing like stars,
And we saw God come and go
And the dust upon our hair was gold!
Now, blinded, I look past all I see:
It might happen,
Love might be there again!
It’s not that I think a railroad station heaven.
Who does!
Yet so many greetings and farewells,—
Anything might happen!
Have you not felt that way,
And, bewildered, watched;
And, longing, waited?
BUBBLES
How shall I link my thought to yours
Through hours that whirl to dust!
Fling me some word will keep me close to you,
If but a rainbow bubble like our breath,
And share with me its swift-revolving dream!
See how the bubble shapes the silver moon, the golden sun!
In purple sleep it spins among the stars,
Or crimson film it holds the dawn,
Only to break in shattered mist upon our lips,—
One azure word turned kiss!
PEDDLED JOY
“May I not sell this gewgaw red?”
“You must not sell!
You cannot buy!”
“Not sell my own, my heart?”
“You two are one: you may not part,—
One peddled joy, you both are dead!”