Flame and shadow / Sara Teasdale [electronic text]

VIII

"THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS"

(War Time)

THERE will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.

IN A GARDEN

THE world is resting without sound or motion, Behind the apple tree the sun goes down Painting with fire the spires and the windows In the elm-shaded town.

Beyond the calm Connecticut the hills lie Silvered with haze as fruits still fresh with bloom, The swallows weave in flight across the zenith On an aerial loom.

Into the garden peace comes back with twilight, Peace that since noon had left the purple phlox, The heavy-headed asters, the late roses And swaying hollyhocks.

For at high-noon I heard from this same garden The far-off murmur as when many come; Up from the village surged the blind and beating Red music of a drum;

And the hysterical sharp fife that shattered The brittle autumn air, While they came, the young men marching Past the village square....

Across the calm Connecticut the hills change To violet, the veils of dusk are deep— Earth takes her children's many sorrows calmly And stills herself to sleep.

NAHANT

BOWED as an elm under the weight of its beauty, So earth is bowed, under her weight of splendor, Molten sea, richness of leaves and the burnished Bronze of sea-grasses.

Clefts in the cliff shelter the purple sand-peas And chicory flowers bluer than the ocean Flinging its foam high, white fire in sunshine, Jewels of water.

Joyous thunder of blown waves on the ledges, Make me forget war and the dark war-sorrow— Against the sky a sentry paces the sea-cliff Slim in his khaki.

WINTER STARS

I WENT out at night alone; The young blood flowing beyond the sea Seemed to have drenched my spirit's wings— I bore my sorrow heavily.

But when I lifted up my head From shadows shaken on the snow, I saw Orion in the east Burn steadily as long ago.

From windows in my father's house, Dreaming my dreams on winter nights, I watched Orion as a girl Above another city's lights.

Years go, dreams go, and youth goes too, The world's heart breaks beneath its wars, All things are changed, save in the east The faithful beauty of the stars.

A BOY

OUT of the noise of tired people working, Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead, His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing, Clean boyish beauty and high-held head.

Eyes that told secrets, lips that would not tell them, Fearless and shy the young unwearied eyes— Men die by millions now, because God blunders, Yet to have made this boy he must be wise.

WINTER DUSK

I WATCH the great clear twilight Veiling the ice-bowed trees; Their branches tinkle faintly With crystal melodies.

The larches bend their silver Over the hush of snow; One star is lighted in the west, Two in the zenith glow.

For a moment I have forgotten Wars and women who mourn— I think of the mother who bore me And thank her that I was born.