I will bring you such harps in Heaven That they will shake at your touch and breath, Whose threads are rainbows, Seventy times seven, Whose voice is life, and silence death. THE CELESTIAL CIRCUS In Heaven, if not on earth, You and I will be dancing. I will whirl you over my head, A torch and a flag and a bird, A hawk that loves my shoulder, A dove with plumes outspread. We will whirl for God when the trumpets Speak the millennial word. We will howl in praise of God, Dervish and young cyclone. We will ride in the joy of God On circus horses white. Your feet will be white lightning, Your spangles white and regal, We will leap from the horses’ backs To the cliffs of day and night. We will have our rest in the pits of sleep When the darkness heaps upon us, And buries us for æons Till we rise like grass in the spring. We will come like dandelions, Like buttercups and crocuses, And all the winter of our sleep But make us storm and sing. We will tumble like swift foam On the wave-crests of old ghostland, And dance on the crafts of doom, And wrestle on the moon. And Saturn and his triple ring Will be our tinsel circus, Till all sad wraiths of yesterday With the stars rejoice and croon. O dancer, love undying, My soul, my swan, my eagle, The first of our million dancing years Dawns, dawns soon. THE FIRE-LADDIE, LOVE The door has a bolt. The window a grate. O friend we are trapped In the factory, Fate. The flames pierce the ceiling. The brands heap the floor. But listen, dear heart: A song at the door! The forcing of bolts, The hewing of oak! A sword breaks the lock With one cleaving stroke. Naked and fair Unscathed and wild Behold he comes swiftly, An elfin-eyed child. The fire-laddie, _Love_, Is our hero this night, As he walks on the embers His plumes are cloud white. He sings of the lightning And snow of desire, His step parts the veil Of the factory fire. Oh his chubby child hands, Oh his long curls agleam, From out their soft tossing Comes thunder and dream. Our fire-laddie, Love, At the last moment here, To bear us away To a road without fear, To the dark, to the wind, To the mist, to the dawn, Where the lilac blooms nod By the rain renewed lawn. To a land of deep knowledge Our tired feet are led, While the stars of new morning Still glint overhead. Sweet Love walks between us With silences long. His step is the music. The day is the song. FOURTH SECTION RHYMES CONCERNING THE LATE WORLD WAR AND THE NEXT WAR IN MEMORY OF MY FRIEND JOYCE KILMER, POET AND SOLDIER _Written Armistice Day, November eleventh, 1918_ I hear a thousand chimes, I hear ten thousand chimes, I hear a million chimes In Heaven. I see a thousand bells, I see ten thousand bells, I see a million bells In Heaven.