After the feast the night, and after the night the day, Fool and philosopher stirring With the day dawning, Stretching and yawning, While in each wine-throbbing, desolate brain is the wheeling and whirring Of thousands of bats, that the slaking Of throats will not hinder from aching, No wine for the brow that is beating to bursting, But water at morning is quench for the thirsting! ERNEST BENSHIMOL SONG Out of one heart the birds and I together, Earth hushed in twilight, Low through the live-oaks hung heavy with silver, Gemmed with the sky-light, Under the great wet star Shaking with light, we jar Lute-voiced the silence with intervaled music. While under the margined world the slow sun lingers, Flaming earth’s portal, Over the lilac dusk spreads his great fingers— Earth is immortal! While the frail beauty dies. Dream in the dreamer’s eyes, All the good gladness turns praise for the singers. Hark, ’tis the breath of life! Hush! and I need it; Northern, gigantic,— Questing the silences, herding the sudden foam Down the Atlantic; Leaves from the autumn’s store Shrill at my desert door, They and I out of one heart that is grieving. GEORGE CABOT LODGE THE WORLDS I saw an idler on a summer day Piping with Iris by a dancing brook; And all his world was rife with Pleasures gay, And languid Follies smiled from every nook. I saw an artist in a world of dreams, His rainbow rising from his radiant task, To throw its magic prism beams O’er Fancy’s changeful masque and counter-masque. I saw Toil—stooping underneath a world Whereon his foster-brothers lighter tread, His skyward pinions ever closer furled Before the grim necessity of bread! I saw a sinner working hard to be Worthy his death-wage from the mint of time; I saw a sailor, unto whom the sea Was hearth and hope and love and wedding-chime. I saw a mother living in her child— I saw a saint among his fellow men— Brave soldiery before my eyes defiled And solemn-hearted scholars—Sudden then I cried: “The stars are no less neighborly In their ethereal remoteness swung, Than these near human orbits wherein we Live out our lives and speak our chosen tongue! “Love seek through all—less there be one Least soul unlit within the night— And over all, the selfsame sun Give each creation light!” MARTHA GILBERT DICKINSON BIANCHI THE RIOT You may think my life is quiet. I find it full of change, An ever-varied diet, As piquant as ’tis strange. Wild thoughts are always flying, Like sparks across my brain, Now flashing out, now dying, To kindle soon again. Fine fancies set me thrilling, And subtle monsters creep Before my sight unwilling: They even haunt my sleep. One broad, perpetual riot Enfolds me night and day. You think my life is quiet? You don’t know what you say. GAMALIEL BRADFORD HUNGER