I ask not for such mighty favor showed
To me as once to her that ye appear
Before me in angelic splendor clad—
Indeed, I think I should go mad for fear.
To me as once to her that ye appear
Before me in angelic splendor clad—
Indeed, I think I should go mad for fear.
But guard her, keep her from all scathe and ill
On that strange path she treads, and when all's o'er
Let her return, the same dear, simple soul
Tender and kindly as she was of yore.
On that strange path she treads, and when all's o'er
Let her return, the same dear, simple soul
Tender and kindly as she was of yore.
A PROVINCETOWN SUMMER
FOR M.A.R.
One summer I spent on old Cape Cod
In a town where the "Portygees"
Were at strife with the lean New England folk
For the spoil of the cold North seas.
In a town where the "Portygees"
Were at strife with the lean New England folk
For the spoil of the cold North seas.
I rented a room in a big white house—
How the artists loved to paint
The sulphur roses and hollyhocks
That grew in its garden quaint.
How the artists loved to paint
The sulphur roses and hollyhocks
That grew in its garden quaint.
I would wake at dawn in the high white bed
And gaze up the narrow street
To the wee churchyard where the tall headstones
Stood orderly, grave and sweet
And gaze up the narrow street
To the wee churchyard where the tall headstones
Stood orderly, grave and sweet
Though so few were straight and the most part leaned
To each other in friendly way
Like the sober greeting of Quaker dames
In their russet and gentle grey.
To each other in friendly way
Like the sober greeting of Quaker dames
In their russet and gentle grey.
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