Don’t make the mistake of believing that vers libre is easier to write than rhymed metrical verse—or the reverse. Don’t think because you say a thing, it is so. Your venture is as uncertain as the poet’s. Authority, unless bestowed by the Mayor, is the gift of time; and then not unassailable. Don’t reverence only dead poets or be certain that the dead poets would think just as you do about contemporary poets. Don’t discard the past for the future, or the future for the past. We learn about the earth from the telescope, and about the stars from the microscope. DON’T be as negative as this list, or sit on the fence. It is better to be on the wrong side than to straddle. ---------- [2] See page 23. Poems[3] JEANNE D’ORGE The Cup My body is no more clay But rapture—touched and golden: The Cup—the Cup From which my lover drinks And drinking makes immortal. The Stranger (_Eleven years_) Oh you spoil everything! I am glad you are only my teacher— My mother would know better: She would not make me treat my friend badly as you do; She would let me go to the Park and ride on the Merry-go-round with him; Even if he is a sailor and a stranger he is grown-up and kind: What harm can he do me? Would he beat me? Would he run away with me in his sloop? Would he murder me? You shake your head and say nothing! You have nothing to say— And now you have spoiled everything. You scared me so that when he came as he promised I edged away and hid my face and almost cried— He couldn’t understand and of course he was hurt and went away And I never shall see him again— It is all spoiled. And you spoiled it—by saying nothing—nothing— You never say anything— You never speak a true word. The Kiss (_Fifteen years_) I shut my eyes and remember He kissed me, My playmate suddenly kissed me Again and again— Now I remember all I knew long ago.... And more. Kisses take your breath, stab to the heart with sweetest, strangest pain; Oh, you can grow faint under their sweetness— What will the Bridal night be.... A rush through terror and fire and death Into swift heaven. The Interpreter (_Sixteen years_)