New York, and Other Verses

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Marshall Jones Company, 1918 - American poetry - 61 pages
 

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Page 27 - His throat is as hard and dry as the throat of a boy who is kissing a girl in secret — a passion among bones. And he, unconscious, pulls me out of my revery. His faded eyes shine fiercely on a dirty page.
Page 34 - SKY-SIGNS THIS is the hour when the city puts off its glittering scales of sunlight on a thousand panes, and lays aside the rumbling shackles of its preoccupations and draws about itself veils and the quiet shimmer of mists. The sinking sun spreads upward through the darkening air a fan of silver radiance. And as the rumble and hum dies down into the pearly row of lamps along the quay and the gleam, here and there, of lighted windows, sky-signs of silver gilt, like pale fire-works threaded on a mesh...
Page 26 - By what sign shall I know into whose eyes the deceptive radiance has fallen, on whose brain the fingering first lip of the first tentacle is feeling — I who am motionless and visionless in these python coils of stone?
Page 25 - Books! — In them I could cross all countries, walking in myself; I could fling myself, sitting still, into seas that sparkled with tropic mornings; I could climb among snows that grazed the stars; I could lie under oaks, by green-lipped, sky-coloured streams; I could become as a cloud is and journey over the rutted ant-hills of the earth, and cross, unimperiled, the scattered bits of looking-glass of its seas; and like a cloud, again, I could be precipitate in passion and rise in the exaltation...
Page 18 - How flapped about she is with the veering squeal of gulls; how dense and foreboding and gray the mist is that she steams into; how, as I think, like a vast green mass of glass, the sea that she will scratch her white hair-line across lies immovable in its deep drowned valleys and sunken mountains. A thousand unconquerable thoughts have become her delicate wires and wheels and rods; a thousand patient hands have fitted them together and heaped a fire among them until they have made her creep on the...
Page 34 - ... of stars and eagles flapping flaming wings across the soft subsiding plumes of steam in the chimney pots. I watch the sun sink and the sky-signs turn their silver gilt to gold ; while higher than they, higher than the teeth of the sky-scrapers even, a fleet of swollen clouds blown out of the sea steers into the West. Like a file of sails laid trim for a secret harbour, like a fleet of misty far-voyaging sails, the billowy, darkly distended clouds slide, filling and sagging over the white and...
Page 21 - ... who live to sleep and fear to die. • And something seems laughable to life; and something seems laughable to death. Above the glow-worm trains, and over the river mist that the moonlight bleaches, the electric lights file like a regiment across the sky, on every bayonet-tip a white spiked star.
Page 25 - ... of looking-glass of its seas; and like a cloud, again, I could be precipitate in passion and rise in the exaltation of sap in a million unfolding leaves; I could be thought; I could see through the mistakes of old kings, and watch them, my elbow. on my knee, grope in their folly, wide-eyed but blind, as one watches a mechanical doll in brocade stumble pompously across the carpet...
Page 26 - It has me in its coils like a python turned to stone. It is stone and darkness, a thing of the innermost jungles of the minds of men; it is dark; it is crushing. And the great gilded ceiling of the reading room, full of echoes and dust and dusty cherubs, rests upon my head.
Page 34 - ... spreads upward through the darkening air a fan of silver radiance. And as the rumble and hum dies down into the pearly row of lamps along the quay and the gleam, here and there, of lighted windows, sky-signs of silver gilt, like pale fire-works threaded on a mesh of wire, begin to ripple and fling, over and over again, kittens that play with skeins of stars and eagles flapping flaming wings across the soft subsiding plumes of steam in the chimney pots. I watch the sun sink and the sky-signs turn...

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