Contemporary Verse, Volumes 13-14Contemporary Verse, 1922 - American poetry |
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$1.75 SINGLE COPY autumn beauty birds blue breath bright CENTS CHARLES WHARTON CHARLES WHARTON STORK Contemporary Verse PUBLISHED dance dark dawn Doc Smith Dorothy Page dream dusk earth EDITOR CHARLES WHARTON Editor Copyrighted 1921 Elizabeth Coatsworth eyes face feet flame flowers garden George Brandon Saul golden green grey hand Hazel Hall heard heart Hervey Allen hills hush Jimmie Jones John French Wilson John Russell McCarthy Joseph Andrew Joseph Auslander kiss laugh leaves Leonora Speyer light LOGAN P. O. Magazine Marjorie Allen Seiffert Mary Medora Addison moon never night Number poet Post-office at Philadelphia rain rose Sara Teasdale shadow silence singing sleep smile song soul spring stars Stephen Moylan SUBSCRIPTION RATES sweet things thought THREE POEMS tilted rock trading as Contemporary trees Verse PUBLISHED MONTHLY voice wait whispered wild William Alexander Percy wind wings wonder woods young
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Page 56 - Hid from the heat of weathers, she will be One of the sunken, burned-out lives I see Here where the mountains shoulder to the sky. So, as the storm goes smashing down the range, Striking white fire from the smitten hills, Swelling the falls and streams until it fills The cove with giant's music, wild and strange, The laugh she sends across the shaken air Brings sudden tears; its very triumph sings Of beauty so intense it cannot last Beyond the transient day of fragile things That brush us, like a...
Page 88 - God must have loved the silence for He laid A stillness on the sunset and the dawn ; Upon the moment when the bird has gone, Leaving a note, high-hung, within the glade More sweet than when he sang it ; noons that pass Too full of forest changelessness for sound ; Creeping of little frosts along the ground ; Silence of growth among the summer grass. God must have deeply loved the silences, For is there one of us who has not heard Promptings to silence that he speaks not of...
Page 69 - Talk to me tenderly, tell me lies ; I am a woman and time flies, I am a woman and out of the door Beauty goes to come no more. Talk to me tenderly...
Page 16 - O bitter moon, O cold and bitter moon, Climbing your midnight hillside of bleak sky, The earth, as you, once knew a blazing noon: Night brings the silver hour when she will die. We shall be cold as you are, and as bitter, Icily circling toward a tepid fire, Playing at life with our deceitful glitter, Past joy, past hope, forever past desire. Yet still the forest lifts its leafy wings, To flutter for a while before the chill; And still the careless heart is gay, and sings In the green temple on the...
Page 46 - WASTED HOURS There was a day I wasted long ago, Lying upon a hillside in the sun — An April day of wind and drifting clouds, An idle day and all my work undone. The little peach trees with their coral skirts Were dancing up the hillside in the breeze; The grey walled meadows gleamed like bits of jade Against the crimson bloom of maple trees. And I could smell the warmth of trodden grass, The coolness of a freshly harrowed field; And I could hear a bluebird's wistful song Of love and beauty only...
Page 70 - Do you remember how we came that day, Breathless with love, unto a hill and stood, My lips athirst to drink the wine of play, Before I must fulfill my womanhood? Your hand on mine was sudden secret fire, It promised wonder, fear and ecstasy; Our dreams were high and white as stars, yea higherThey were the hope of things we shall not see. Do you recall how, even going down, Our spirits seemed to soar? The dusk that came And hung a cold gray silence on the town, For us was leaping glory and a flame....
Page 46 - ... upon a hillside in the sun — An April day of wind and drifting clouds, An idle day and all my work undone. The little peach trees with their coral skirts Were dancing up the hillside in the breeze; The grey walled meadows gleamed like bits of jade Against the crimson bloom of maple trees. And I could smell the warmth of trodden grass, The coolness of a freshly harrowed field; And I could hear a bluebird's wistful song Of love and beauty only half revealed. I have forgotten many April days But...
Page 54 - There may be worlds where deathless shepherds lie, Watching their starry flocks graze through the sky, Pastures of lotus in the fields of space, White with the tents of an eternal race. Deep as the eye of a blue, land-locked sea That timeless calm would seem to you and me; Its aeons short with long felicity, But strange, how strange! Without the yeast of change. Give me no changeless hours, for I know Moments of earth are sweeter that they go; Pluck me no deathless roses from the sky; They bloom...