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Wavelength, v. 1, issue 4, January-March 1942
Page 6
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HOUSE OF CLAY This house of clay I call my body stands Too near the road where travelers pass and call For bread and meat, and eat with greedy hands Till they are full and I have none at all. And many times when purple shadows fall They come unasked and will not be denied Their sleep; so I must give them room and hall And go myself and sleep on the outside. A house divided shall not stand, they say, So how shall this, my house, fall not a sunder That keeps beneath its roof the priest and whore? I think that I shall enter it some day And sweep it clean of its dejected plunder And quietly draw the blinds and bold the door. ..Bryon Herbert Reece.. EGO I have no need to plumb the depths of time To find man crawling upward from the slime And standing on two legs, nor have I need To look unto the open sky to read The constellation's story of the One Who set the numbered stars, the moon, the sun, Upon their courses, nor to browse Through dusty volumes for the Whys and Hows Of life, the Whither and the Whence, To ask the meaning of inheritance Or of environment. All answers lie Here in the capitalization of an I. ..Louise McNeill.. THE SPIDERS The spiders are good housekeepers With little agile noiseless hands They work with dust to make all soft, Their music is Time's flowing sands. They love things gray, and light that's veiled, They love a room where naught is stirred, Where no wind comes, no footstep falls, And where no voice is ever heard. All change they like to make themselves Dimly industrious and precise, Their world secure in flaking walls Upon whose stairways run the mice. ..Elizabeth Coatsworth.. ITINERANT BIRD Please tell me, bird, Since you have wings, And an undeterred Small bill that sings, Do you know well Some simple truth, Which merely to tell Renews your youth? Or must you chatter, As age comes on, Trying to scatter Oblivion? ..Witter Bynner..
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HOUSE OF CLAY This house of clay I call my body stands Too near the road where travelers pass and call For bread and meat, and eat with greedy hands Till they are full and I have none at all. And many times when purple shadows fall They come unasked and will not be denied Their sleep; so I must give them room and hall And go myself and sleep on the outside. A house divided shall not stand, they say, So how shall this, my house, fall not a sunder That keeps beneath its roof the priest and whore? I think that I shall enter it some day And sweep it clean of its dejected plunder And quietly draw the blinds and bold the door. ..Bryon Herbert Reece.. EGO I have no need to plumb the depths of time To find man crawling upward from the slime And standing on two legs, nor have I need To look unto the open sky to read The constellation's story of the One Who set the numbered stars, the moon, the sun, Upon their courses, nor to browse Through dusty volumes for the Whys and Hows Of life, the Whither and the Whence, To ask the meaning of inheritance Or of environment. All answers lie Here in the capitalization of an I. ..Louise McNeill.. THE SPIDERS The spiders are good housekeepers With little agile noiseless hands They work with dust to make all soft, Their music is Time's flowing sands. They love things gray, and light that's veiled, They love a room where naught is stirred, Where no wind comes, no footstep falls, And where no voice is ever heard. All change they like to make themselves Dimly industrious and precise, Their world secure in flaking walls Upon whose stairways run the mice. ..Elizabeth Coatsworth.. ITINERANT BIRD Please tell me, bird, Since you have wings, And an undeterred Small bill that sings, Do you know well Some simple truth, Which merely to tell Renews your youth? Or must you chatter, As age comes on, Trying to scatter Oblivion? ..Witter Bynner..
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