O haunting melody! thou art too slender, Too fragile like a globe of crystal glass; For all my stormy thoughts thou art too slender, The burden from my bosom will not pass. O tender word! O melody so slender! O tears of passion saturate with brine, O words, unwilling words, ye can not render My hatred for the foe of me and mine. ABSENCE Your words dropped into my heart like pebbles into a pool, Rippling around my breast and leaving it melting cool. Your kisses fell sharp on my flesh like dawn-dews from the limb, Of a fruit-filled lemon tree when the day is young and dim. Like soft rain-christened sunshine, as fragile as rare gold lace, Your breath, sweet-scented and warm, has kindled my tranquil face. But a silence vasty-deep, oh deeper than all these ties Now, through the menacing miles, brooding between us lies. And more than the songs I sing, I await your written word, To stir my fluent blood as never your presence stirred. SUMMER MORN IN NEW HAMPSHIRE All yesterday it poured, and all night long I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat Upon the shingled roof like a weird song, Upon the grass like running children’s feet. And down the mountains by the dark cloud kissed, Like a strange shape in filmy veiling dressed, Slid slowly, silently, the wraith-like mist, And nestled soft against the earth’s wet breast. But lo, there was a miracle at dawn! The still air stirred at touch of the faint breeze, The sun a sheet of gold bequeathed the lawn, The songsters twittered in the rustling trees. And all things were transfigured in the day, But me whom radiant beauty could not move; For you, more wonderful, were far away, And I was blind with hunger for your love. REST IN PEACE No more for you the city’s thorny ways, The ugly corners of the Negro belt; The miseries and pains of these harsh days By you will never, never again be felt. No more, if still you wander, will you meet With nights of unabating bitterness; They cannot reach you in your safe retreat, The city’s hate, the city’s prejudice! ’Twas sudden--but your menial task is done, The dawn now breaks on you, the dark is over, The sea is crossed, the longed-for port is won; Farewell, oh, fare you well! my friend and lover. A RED FLOWER Your lips are like a southern lily red, Wet with the soft rain-kisses of the night, In which the brown bee buries deep its head, When still the dawn’s a silver sea of light. Your lips betray the secret of your soul, The dark delicious essence that is you, A mystery of life, the flaming goal I seek through mazy pathways strange and new.