Last night they danced to that very tune; Today they march away; Tomorrow, perhaps no band at all, Or the band beside the grave. Above, in the long blue strip of sky, The whirling pigeons, the thoughtless pigeons, pass. Another band beats down the street; Contending rhythms clash; New melodies win place, then fade, And the flashing legs move past. Down the cheering, grey-paved street The fringed flags, the erect flags, pass. CALM DAY, WITH ROLLERS Always the ships that move in mystery, on the dim horizon, Shadow-filled sails of dreams, sliding over the blue-grey ocean, Far from the rock-edged shore where willow-green waves are rushing, And white foam-people leap, to stand erect for the moment. Ho! ye sails that seem to wander in dream-filled meadows, Say, is the shore where I stand the only field of struggle, Or are ye hit and battered out there by waves and wind-gusts As ye tack over a clashing sea of watery echoes? PHONOGRAPH--TANGO Old dances are simplified of their yearning, bleached by Time. Yet from one black disc we tasted again the bite of crude Spanish passion. ... He had got into her courtyard. She was alone that night. Through the black night-rain, he sang to her window bars: _Love me, love--ah, love me!_ _If you will not, I can follow_ _Into the highest of mountains;_ _And there, in the wooden cabin,_ _I will strangle you for your lover._ --That was but rustling of dripping plants in the dark. More tightly under his cloak, he clasped his guitar. _Love, ah-h! love me, love me!_ _If you will do this, I can buy_ _A fringed silk scarf of yellow,_ _A high comb carved of tortoise;_ _Then we will dance in the Plaza._ She was alone that night. He had broken into her courtyard. Above the gurgling gutters he heard-- surely-- a door unchained? The passage was black; but he risked it-- death in the darkness-- or her hot arms--(_love--love me ah-h-h!_) "A good old tune," she murmured --and I found we were dancing. DECORATION A little pagan child-god plays Beyond the far horizon haze, And underneath the twilight trees He blows a bubble to the breeze, Which is borne upward in the night And makes the heavens shine with light. But soon it sinks to earth again, And, hitting hills, it bursts! And then With foam the skies are splashed and sprayed; And that's how all the stars are made. THRENODY She is lain with high things and with low. She lies With shut eyes, Rocked in the eternal flow Of silence evermore. Desperately immortal, she; She stands With wide hands Dim through the veil of eternity, Behind the supreme door. * * * * * J. R. DOS PASSOS THE BRIDGE