As I said, Hunter was sick when he was working here. And then he ran away to Indiana And left his wife and children. Now he's back. His cough was just as bad in Indiana As it is here. A cough is pretty hard To run away from. Wife and children too Are pretty hard to leave, since thought of them Stays with a fellow and cannot be left. Yes, Hunter's back, but he can't work for you. He's straightening out his little farm and making Provision for his family. Hunter's changed. He is a better man. It almost seems That Hunter's blossomed. ... I am sorry for him. The doctor says he has tuberculosis. SOMETHING BEYOND THE HILL To a western breeze A row of golden tulips is nodding. They flutter their golden wings In a sudden ecstasy and say: Something comes to us from beyond, Out of the sky, beyond the hill We give it to you. * * * * * And I walk through rows of jonquils To a beloved door, Which you open. And you stand with the priceless gold of your tulip head Nodding to me, and saying: Something comes to me Out of the mystery of Eternal Beauty-- I give it to you. * * * * * There is the morning wonder of hyacinth in your eyes, And the freshness of June iris in your hands, And the rapture of gardenias in your bosom. But your voice is the voice of the robin Singing at dawn amid new leaves. It is like sun-light on blue water Where the south-wind is on the water And the buds of the flags are green. It is like the wild bird of the sedges With fluttering wings on a wind-blown reed Showering lyrics over the sun-light Between rhythmical pauses When his heart has stopped, Making light and water Into song. * * * * * Let me hear your voice, And the voice of Eternal Beauty Through the music of your voice. Let me gather the iris of your hands. Against my face. And close my eyes with your eyes. Let me listen with you For the Voice. FRONT THE AGES WITH A SMILE