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ache anger answer beauty of surrender beauty's birth body breast breath bride bright Celia child Christ citizen cried dare dead death we heard democracy destiny and joy doubters earth eternity eyes face fathers fought fear find beauty frère fulfill Your destiny furled glory God's Greece hair halo Hampshire hand happy speech hear heart today here's your place hill of hills immigrants Italian boy journey kiss knew lands Laughing lift my head lips living loneliness look lovers MITCHELL KENNERLEY mother's mountains n'es n'es pas mon night pain pas mon frère peace pence poetry poets renewed Right here's sail share shine ship America shipmates sign and trace sing single solitary star song soul tears tell thrushes told touch tranquillity Of fusion unfurled uprisen death vision voice Walt Whitman watched wind Of death WITTER BYNNER wonder WORLD BY WITTER youth
Page 58 - Grieve not for the invisible transported brow On which like leaves the dark hair grew; Nor for the lips of laughter that are now Laughing inaudibly in sun and dew; Nor for the limbs that, fallen low And seeming faint and slow, Shall alter and renew Their shape and hue Like birches white before the moon, Or a...
Page 9 - I touch them all through you," she said. " I cannot know them now, Deeply and truly as my very own, except through you, Except through one or two Interpreters. But not a moment stirs Here between us, binding and interweaving us, That does not bind these others to our care.
Page 44 - ... screamed — struck out and fell Across his brother's arm. Love could not quell His anger. Wrists together high in air He rose and with a yell Brought down his handcuffs toward his brother's face — But his hands were pinned below his waist. By a burly, silent sheriff, and some hideous thing was bound, And he was laid upon the narrow seat.
Page 57 - Lies clear and lovely now, a silver link Of change and peace! Hollows and willows and a river-bed, Anemones and clouds, Raindrops and tender distances Above, beneath, Inherit and bequeath Our far-begotten beauty. We are wed With many kindred who were seeming dead. Only the delicate woven shrouds Are vanished, beauty thrown aside To honor and uncover A deeper beauty — as the veil that slips Breathless away between a lover And his bride. So, by the body, may the soul surmise The beauty of surrender,...
Page 21 - To share all beauty as the interchanging dust, To be akin and kind and to entrust All men to one another for their good, Is to have heard and understood, And carried to the common enemy In you and me, The ultimatum of democracy.
Page 22 - It is my faith that God is our own dream Of perfect understanding of the soul. It is my passion that, alike through me And every member of Eternity, The source of God is sending the same stream. It is my peace that when my life is whole, God's life shall be completed and supreme.
Page 41 - ... no slain, And men from every nation shall enroll, And women — in the hardihood of peace ! What can my anger do but cease ? Whom shall I fight and who shall be my enemy When he is I and I am he? Let me have done with that old God outside Who watched with preference and answered prayer, The Godhead that replied Now here, now there, Where heavy cannon were Or coins of gold ! Let me receive communion with all men Acknowledging our one and only soul! For not till then Can God be God till we ourselves...
Page 31 - Somebody called Walt Whitman dead. He is alive instead, Alive as I am. When I lift my head, His head is lifted. When his brave mouth speaks, My lips contain his word. And when his rocker creaks Ghostly in Camden, there I sit in it and watch my hand grow old And take upon my constant lips the kiss of younger truth. . . . It is my joy to tell and to be told That he, in all the world and me, Cannot be dead, That I, in all the world and him, youth after youth Shall lift my head.
Page 6 - The greater part of this poem was delivered before the Harvard Chapter of the Phi Beta Kappa Society in June, 1911, entitled "An Immigrant.
Page 10 - more than merely this, More than the shine of sunset on our heads, more than a kiss, More than our rapt agreement and delight Watching the mountain mingle with the night. . . . Tell that the love of two incurs The love of multitudes, makes way And welcome for them, as a solitary star Brings on the great array. Go make a lovers' calendar," She said,