APRIL IN FOURTH AVENUE
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The shadowing walls of stone-and-granite gloom
Are damp as with the vapors of a tomb; They press me in, my very life to crush And trample under men's convulsive rush. While out beyond, the laughing gardens bloom With flowers woven on the magic loom Of velvet lawns, where leafy lilacs brush The flirting wings of every dallying thrush. And there, O God, not here between these walls, May earth receive me when Thy Spirit calls My soul to dwell in Spring's eternal Room Far out beyond, where laughing gardens bloom With flowers woven on the widening loom Of endless time that spins no death nor doom. |
PART II
SONGS FOR THE EVENING HOUR
THE SPIRIT OF EVENING
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O, the day hurries by
With a flush in the sky Like the blush on a young girl's cheek, While her feet touch the tips Of the hill, and her lips Are moist with a dew that is sweet. On the slopes she has kissed There cling veils of white mist She has loosed from her shoulders in flight. And I reach through the haze Till my soul reels and sways, Asking Evening the secret of Night. Then I see the veils shift, Setting shadows adrift; The Sibyl has cycled her flight. And my soul in its gaze Through the challenging haze Stands baffled and blind in the night. |