But suddenly, afar, beyond the wood, "The inn!" I cried, and on his living flesh. My broncho felt the lash and neighed with eagerness. And all this time the cool and quiet wood Until there came to me upon the night Dropped like soft music winging at my feet, And seemed a sigh that, with my spirit blending, And through the empty silence of the night, That music; and the sounds the night wind bore me, I curbed my horse, to catch what she might say: At night they come, and they are gone by day." Then I dismounted and stretched out my length My eyes grew heavy and my strength was spent. I sleep beneath the stars, for through my heart "At night they come, and they are gone by day; And love is but an inn upon life's way." EL CHARRO A coat of silk, cheap jewels he loves to flaunt, Striding his bronco with its braided tail, Crowned by a hat that tapers to a coneOne feels no bribe nor violence could prevail To make him change his saddle for a throne. Proud of his seat, he cracks his rawhide lash. The brute obeys, a spark flies from his hoof, He plunges; and with pistol at his sash His master strides him, haughty and aloof. These seem no man and horse in mortal strife, THE MAGNOLIA Deep in the wood, of scent and song the daughter, White as a flake of foam upon still water, Hers is a cup a workman might have fashioned As when a woman bares her rounded throat. There is a tale of how the moon, her lover, I cannot say where I have heard the story. José Santos Chocano OLD ROOFS I I have seen old roofs, Broken for winds to enter, All their secrets flown like homing birds. Who came and went and will not come again. These only had a voice, All, all the other roofs were dumb! II Under an old roof I went one day, Singing, silken drapery Went down the hall with me. I was aware Of feet upon the stair; Soft laughter and a little sound of tears, It was the roof, the broken roof, that sung. The living roofs were silent, But the dead roof had a tongue! HARBURY All the men of Harbury go down to the sea in ships, The wind upon their faces, the salt upon their lips. The little boys of Harbury when they are laid to sleep, Dream of masts and cabins and the wonders of the deep. The women-folk of Harbury have eyes like the sea, I met a woman: "Beyond the bar," she said, "Beyond the shallow water where the green lines spread, "Out beyond the sand-bar and the white spray, My three sons wait for the Judgment Day." I saw an old man who goes to sea no more, "The sea's a hard mistress," the old man said; "The sea is always hungry and never full fed. "The sea had my father and took my son from me— Sometimes I think I see them, walking on the sea! "I'd like to be in Harbury on the Judgment Day, When the word is spoken and the sea is wiped away, |