Caves I long for and cold rocks, Minnow-peopled country brooks, Blundering gales of Equinox, Sunless valley-nooks. Daily so I might restore Calcined heart and shrivelled skin, A morning phoenix with proud roar Kindled new within. CATHERINE DRURY _Mother_ Edward will not taste his food, Nor touch his drink, Flings me answers gruff and rude: Why, I dare not think. _Sister_ Mother, do not try to know All that moves in Edward's heart, The fiery gloom he will not show; You and he who lay so near Fall wide apart. Watch your rival, mother dear: Catherine Drury does not guess His dark love or your envious fear, Her own loveliness. She will laugh, she will play, Never know the hurt she does: Edward's heart will melt away, His head go buzz, And if he thinks you read his mind, Better you had been struck stone blind. RAISING THE STONE A shaft of moon from the cloud-hurried sky, Has coursed the wide dark heath, but nowhere found One paler patch to illumine--oats nor rye, Chalk-pit nor waterpool nor sandy ground-- Till, checked by our thronged faces on the mound (A wedge of whiteness) universally Strained backward from the task that holds us bound, It beams on set jaw and hate-maddened eye. The vast stone lifts, turns, topples, in its fall Spreads death: but we who live raise a shrill chant Of joy for sacrifice cleansing us all. Once more we heave. Erect in earth we plant, The interpreter of our dumb furious call, Outraging Heaven, pointing "I want, I want." THE TREASURE BOX