Helen Gray Cone Poems

He wandered from us long, oh, long ago,
Rare singer, with the note unsatisfied;
Into what charmèd wood, what shade star-eyed
...

Brave racer, who hast sped the living light
With throat outstretched and every nerve a-strain,
Now on thy left hand labors gray-faced Pain,
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Two ships, alone in sky and sea,
Hang clinched, with crash and roar;
There is but one-whiche'er it be-
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Vineleaf and rose I would my chaplet make:
I would my word were wine for all men's sake.
Pure from the pressing of the stainless feet
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The garden within was shaded,
And guarded about from sight;
The fragrance flowed to the south wind,
The fountain leaped to the light.
...

All slumb'rous images that be, combined,
To this white couch and cool shall woo thee, Sleep!
First will I think on fields of grasses deep
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This windy sunlit morning after rain,
The wet bright laurel laughs with beckoning gleam
In the blown wood, whence breaks the wild white stream
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I
THE LAST CUP OF CANARY
So, the powder's low, and the larder's clean,
And surrender drapes, with its black impending,
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When goldenly the willows green,
And, mirrored in the sunset pool,
Hang wavering, wild-rose clouds between:
When robins call in twilights cool:
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Comrade Youth! Sit down with me
Underneath the summer tree,
Cool green dome whose shade is sweet,
...