Lips trembling far too much to speak;
The arms that would not come undone;
The kiss so salty on your cheek;
The long, long trip begun.
I could not miss you more it seemed,
But now I don't know what to say.
It's harder than I ever dreamed
With you so far away.
ESCAPED!
(The boiler house whistle is blown "wildcat" when a prisoner makes a "getaway")
A man has fled. . . .! We clutch the bars and wait;
The corridors are empty, tense and still;
A silver mist has dimmed the distant hill;
The guards have gathered at the prison gate.
Then suddenly the "wildcat" blares its hate
Like some mad Moloch screaming for the kill,
Shattering the air with terror loud and shrill,
The dim, grey walls become articulate.
Freedom, you say? Behold her altar here!
In those far cities men can only find
A vaster prison and a redder hell,
O'ershadowed by new wings of greater fear.
Brave fool, for such a world to leave behind
The iron sanctuary of a cell!
RETROSPECT
The wall-girt distance undulates with heat;
The buildings crouch in terror of the sun;
Steel bars and stones, heat-tortured ton on ton,
On which the noon's remorseless hammers beat.
Alone I trudge the wide red-cobbled street:
How long before this evil dream is done . . .?
These strange mad stones I know them every one,
Worn with the tread of oh, how many feet!
And yet it seems that I have seen it all
Before . . . I know not when . . . but there should be
Blunt buildings near a cliff, as I recall;
Bare rocks—a burning white—a gnarled dark tree . . .
And looming clear above a sentried wall
The foam-laced splendor of a warm blue sea . . .