For I shall sing to thee of Mytelene And ancient things And paint with poppied words a twilight scene Where Lesbos flings Her stretch of Sapphic isle Over the sea. Ah, liquid interlude! We would intrude But for a little while Upon the rapture of ambrosial springs. This then is all of the enchanted vision Far from the dusty passion of the streets? The world’s derision, The inarticulate call Of ageless things in the awakened woods, Unhappy autumn moods And the wan summons of a grieving fate, Hastening through the twilight pall And beauties vanished, inarticulate? Let no dim spectres haunt my darkened brain Like aspens whispering at eventide Of ancient pain So oft repeated. I shall flee far from the abysmal night, Not in impetuous flight, But, lingering by Lethe’s tideless void Shall slumber undefeated In sunset woods, forever unannoyed. LUCIUS BEEBE. “_The Swift and Sharp-tongued Flame of Death_” The swift and sharp-tongued flame of death Has touched our hearts. We love no more; No more for us to drink the breath Of life in one long kiss and store Its fragrance ’till we kiss again. All that is gone, and gone our dreams. Remember if you will. The stain Of rich red wine for me, it seems, Is better far than memories. And lest the ghostly perfume smell Too sweet, and life be drowned in seas Like this--I drink and say farewell. EUGENE A. DAVIDSON. _Three Poems_ BENEDICTION “_I know not how he chose you from the crowd, came to your door, and grasp your hand to ask his way._” --_Rabindranath Tagore._ You may not question why he chose you From so many more-- Why his tiny hands have fumbled At your door. To a land of fifty cross-roads He has come to-day, Placed his eager hands in yours, And asked his way. He will follow where you lead him-- Bright and stormy skies; And at evening still beside you Close his eyes. Keep his trust, O You the Chosen-- Far shall be his way. Clasp him to your heart and bless him With all you may. RECALL. “_Come back, my darling; the world is asleep; and no one would know, if you came for a moment while stars are gazing at stars._” --_Rabindranath Tagore._ Dark was the hour you slipped away, Veiled in the shadowed light. Touched with a sleep the others lay Then as they do to-night. Come, my darling, oh, come to mother, Come for an hour and go; For the stars which gaze upon one another-- Only the stars shall know.