But lo, the singer sings!—all I have lived
And will live yet, all that my race has lived
And will live yet. Listen! All laughter dies,
A knock upon my window-pane, fumbling
Black flapping wings, a voice wild with despair:
"Traitor!-what have you mused in Ascalon?"

Kol Nidre! So throughout the centuries,
Deep, beautiful and glorious to hear!

But what would you of me? Is there a path
You'd have me take? I've beaten every one!
A thousand roads are in my blood! What then?
Is it a call to fight? Battle with whom?
Amalak long is dead, the gentile gods
Are slain, and all their golden temples dust!
Perhaps it is a call to life? We long

Have ceased to live, wearied

Or is it death?

How shall we die who knew not how to live?

God! God! Save me from this despair! Hurl me,

If so you will, down the ravines of death,

Where every sunbeam is a thorn to prick,
And every flower is a wound to bear,
All loveliness a memory of wrath

And spirit madness! I'll not care! An end.

Let be to all this waste! See, if I die

There is a heaven of stars goes down with me,
And if I live on

Hush! the song ceases,

The singer goes, and with him the despair!
Go singer, go! far from this land! the draught
You offer it is much too strong! Highways
Broader than these shall hear your song.
The dusk deepens, deepens there is my star!

For me

HUMAN SPEECH

I know the shady moving of its waves
Circling old shores of thought all solemnly;
Its loves and hates; its moods storm-taught and free.
For like the sea it hides a million graves

Beneath an iron gleam that darkly braves

The sun and storm. It heaves too like the sea,
Full of its life, and flees to Memory

Even as she flees to her shaggy caves.

Three massive silences creation's Lord

Wrought in the heart of life: before the birth
The silence of the dead stirring again;
The hush of Love wielding a flaming sword.
Which holds the swerving passions of the earth;
And the great silence in the speech of men.

Samuel Roth

FIGS FROM THISTLES

FIRST FIG

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night:
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-

It gives a lovely light!

SECOND FIG

Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

THE UNEXPLORER

There was a road ran past our house

Too lovely to explore.

I asked my mother once-she said
That if you followed where it led

It brought you to the milk-man's door.
(That's why I have not traveled more.)

And why you come complaining

Is more than I can see.

I loved you Wednesday-yes-but what
Is that to me?

THE PENITENT

I had a little Sorrow,

Born of a little Sin,

I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;

And, "Little Sorrow, weep," said I,
"And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie

And think how bad I've been!"

And took a book I had,

And put a ribbon on my hair

To please a passing lad.

And, "One thing there's no getting by

I've been a wicked girl," said I;

"But if I can't be sorry, why,

I might as well be glad!"

Edna St. Vincent Millay

INVENTIONS

DEITY

In incense before gods He rises,

In the blue smoke of cigarettes He curls. He dwells in the eyelids of the Buddha; He is in the lotus.

The delicate tree-tops He sways.
Over the roofs of houses He stalks.

He is in the moon mirrored in a pool;
He is in the sky.

In the tails of peacocks He is a jewel;
In the garden of sun-flowers He is a rose.
He hangs above an adoration of candles.
He is on a cross.

EARTH

The earth is a moth
Circling about a lamp;

The earth is a cemetery

Of the dead.

The earth is a mother

Rocking a cradle.