Two rivers to each other run In the very midst of Babylon, And swifter than their current fleets The restless river of the streets Of Babylon, of Babylon, And Babylon's towers smite the sky, But higher reeks to God most high The smoke of her iniquity: "~But oh, betwixt the green and blue To walk the hills that once we knew When you were pure and I was true,~" -- So rang the harps in Babylon -- "~Or ere along the roads of stone Had led us captive one by one The subtle gods of Babylon.~" The harps hung up in Babylon Hung silent till the prophet dawn, When Judah's feet the highway burned Back to the holy hills returned, And shook their dust on Babylon. In Zion's halls the wild harps rang, To Zion's walls their smitten clang, And lo! of Babylon they sang, They only sang of Babylon: "~Jehovah, round whose throne of awe The vassal stars their orbits draw Within the circle of Thy law, Canst thou make nothing what is done, Or cause Thy servant to be one That has not been in Babylon, That has not known the power and pain Of life poured out like driven rain? I will go down and find again My soul that's lost in Babylon.~" Live blindly. [Trumbull Stickney] Live blindly and upon the hour. The Lord, Who was the Future, died full long ago. Knowledge which is the Past is folly. Go, Poor child, and be not to thyself abhorred. Around thine earth sun-winged winds do blow And planets roll; a meteor draws his sword; The rainbow breaks his seven-coloured chord And the long strips of river-silver flow: Awake! Give thyself to the lovely hours. Drinking their lips, catch thou the dream in flight About their fragile hairs' aerial gold. Thou art divine, thou livest, -- as of old Apollo springing naked to the light, And all his island shivered into flowers. Love's Springtide. [Frank Dempster Sherman] My heart was winter-bound until I heard you sing; O voice of Love, hush not, but fill My life with Spring! My hopes were homeless things before I saw your eyes; O smile of Love, close not the door To paradise! My dreams were bitter once, and then I found them bliss; O lips of Love, give me again Your rose to kiss! Springtide of Love! The secret sweet Is ours alone; O heart of Love, at last you beat Against my own! Wanderers. [George Sylvester Viereck] Sweet is the highroad when the skylarks call, When we and Love go rambling through the land. But shall we still walk gayly, hand in hand, At the road's turning and the twilight's fall? Then darkness shall divide us like a wall, And uncouth evil nightbirds flap their wings; The solitude of all created things Will creep upon us shuddering like a pall. This is the knowledge I have wrung from pain: We, yea, all lovers, are not one, but twain, Each by strange wisps to strange abysses drawn; But through the black immensity of night Love's little lantern, like a glowworm's, bright, May lead our steps to some stupendous dawn. Ballade of my Lady's Beauty. [Joyce Kilmer]