This section is a Christmas tree: Loaded with pretty toys for you. Behold the blocks, the Noah’s ark… The popguns painted red and blue. No solemn pine-cone forest-fruit,

[A Poem for Aviators] How the Wings Were Made From many morning-glories That in an hour will fade, From many pansy buds

[Supposed to be chanted to some… Chant we the story now Tho’ in a house we sleep; Tho’ by a hearth of coals Vigil to-night we keep.

Where a river roars in rapids And doves in maples fret, Where peace has decked the pasture… Our guardian angels met. Long they had sought each other

Oh, once I walked in Heaven, all… Upon the sacred cliffs above the s… God and the angels, and the gleami… Had journeyed out into the stars t… They had gone forth to win far cit…

‘There’s machinery in the butterfl… There’s a mainspring to the bee; There’s hydraulics to a daisy, And contraptions to a tree. ‘If we could see the birdie

The Hope of the Resurrection Though I have watched so many mou… O’er the real dead, in dull earth… Those dead seemed but the shadows… That passed and left me in the sun…

I was but a half-grown boy, You were a girl-child slight. Ah, how weary you were! You had led in the bullock-fight..… We slew the bullock at length

The wide Pacific waters And the Atlantic meet. With cries of joy they mingle, In tides of love they greet. Above the drowned ages

Even the shrewd and bitter, Gnarled by the old world’s greed, Cherished the stranger softly Seeing his utter need. Shelter and patient hearing,

Ah, she was music in herself, A symphony of joyousness. She sang, she sang from finger tip… From every tremble of her dress. I saw sweet haunting harmony,

What the Carpenter Said The moon’s a cottage with a door. Some folks can see it plain. Look, you may catch a glint of lig… A sparkle through the pane,

Oh, saucy gold circle of fairyland… Impudent, intimate, delicate treas… A noose for my heart and a ring fo… Here in my study you sing me a mea… Whimsy and song in my little gray…

The moon’s a steaming chalice, Of honey and venom-wine. A little of it sipped by night Makes the long hours divine. But oh, my reckless lovers,