Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/23

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The Great Hunt

And the rose is a red bygone,
When the face I love is going
And the gate to the end shall clang,
And it's no use to beckon or say, "So long"—
Maybe I'll tell you then—
some other time.

I never knew any more beautiful than you:
I have hunted you under my thoughts,
I have broken down under the wind
And into the roses looking for you.
I shall never find any
greater than you.


DAYS

I will keep you and bring hands to hold you against a great hunger.
I will run a spear in you for a great gladness to die with.
I will stab you between the ribs of the left side with a great love worth remembering.


HANDFULS

Blossoms of babies
Blinking their stories
Come soft
On the dusk and the babble;

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