I gave the key, indifferent though it cost Familiar lightness of unskilful touch, The music to the master. If I lost, He lets the little go who profits much. Ah, then the keen, reluctant knowledge grew That though the chords were helpless at your will You had nor wit nor power to sound them true: Discordant they, or else forever still. TWO SPENDTHRIFT KINGS These tawny sheaves, this fragrant land, Two spendthrift kings have found and seized, And Vagabondia may demand Its pockets lined, its troubles eased. We hold or deed as fancy wills. We own the world by right and law-- The hidden gold in all the hills, The sweetness in a yellow straw. GROWTH I twine you, little trellis, close and fond, And swing in wistful threads above, beyond, For air and space to blossom. Be it so. Ah me! I love you, but the plant must grow. I quiver with the call of summer heat, With all the wild sap stirring at my feet. My quiet trellis, impotent to know The earth and sun command me: I must grow. You cannot share my ardent life apart, Nor feel the upward straining of my heart. In every vein the urging currents flow, Leaf after leaf unfolds: the plant must grow. CHANGE Beloved, have I turned indeed so cold? My eyes are faithful, grieving with your grief; And if the year itself could grow not old, Could stand at waking sap and budding leaf, An April heart might keep its first unrest, An April love the petals of its spring. When all the birds are silent in my breast, How can I answer when you bid me sing? The autumn hills are brown: you will not see. The saddened woodland speaks, and finds you strange. Ah, dear one, all my world is kin to me, And with the swerving days I change, I change. WISTARIA The blue wistaria hangs with bloom The Place of Memories far away. My heart has ached with it today-- The blue wistaria is in bloom. And one may pass so near, so near, With half-remembering eyes and cold, Where quickening with the budding year It clusters perfect as of old; And one at sight of wizened sprays, Reluctant in an alien spring, Must feel the sharp, unblunted sting, The pang of unforgotten days. MY NOOK[6]