Madison Julius Cawein Poems

SHUT it out of the heart — this grief,
O Love, with the years grown old and hoary!
And let in joy that life is brief,
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COME in, old Ghost of all that used to be! —
You find me old,
And love grown cold,
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CALLING, the heron flies athwart the blue
That sleeps above it; reach on rocky reach
Of water sings by sycamore and beech,
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THE Season speaks this year of life
Confusing words of strife,
Suggesting weeds instead of fruits and flowers
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PROEM
THE Nights of song and story,
With breath of frost and rain,
Whose locks are wild and hoary,
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The west builds high a sepulcher
Of cloudy granite and of gold,
Where twilight's priestly hours inter
The Day like some great king of old.
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Her heart is still and leaps no more
With holy passion when the breeze,
Her whilom playmate, as before,
Comes with the language of the bees,
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Here is the place where Loveliness keeps house,
Between the river and the wooded hills,
Within a valley where the Springtime spills
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From an ode 'In Commemoration of the Founding of the
Massachusetts Bay Colony.'

The morn that breaks its heart of gold
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The 'happy year' of 1914
AN hour from dawn:
The snow sweeps on
As it swept with sleet last night:
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