GREETINGS
35
And if at evening when the emerald stars
Have made a jewel-mine of sea and sky,
And you shall stir to the forgotten touch
Of that fond hand that used to curl in yours
And hate to leave the man-grip of your palm;
Then if your fingers seem to close in sleep
About the ringless hand that loved too well,
It is my phantom, passing through the air
Ghost fingers that are lonelier than yours!
Have made a jewel-mine of sea and sky,
And you shall stir to the forgotten touch
Of that fond hand that used to curl in yours
And hate to leave the man-grip of your palm;
Then if your fingers seem to close in sleep
About the ringless hand that loved too well,
It is my phantom, passing through the air
Ghost fingers that are lonelier than yours!
If at the dawn, you wake to muffled cries,
Hoarse chantings of the street and loud newsboys
Who seem to think that Crime was made for this,
Murder and suicide and bloody war,
Especially designed for special sales!
And raucous milkmen and insistent wheels,
And all things city-smirched and foul and grey,
No welcoming leaves a-peep o'er window-sills
And the sun worship of awakening trees—
If there comes humming like a harp in boughs,
Soft waves on pebbly beaches, or a breath
Ringing the golden bells of mountain flowers,
Know it is I, whose heart keeps music still
Among the broken strings you used to play!
Hoarse chantings of the street and loud newsboys
Who seem to think that Crime was made for this,
Murder and suicide and bloody war,
Especially designed for special sales!
And raucous milkmen and insistent wheels,
And all things city-smirched and foul and grey,
No welcoming leaves a-peep o'er window-sills
And the sun worship of awakening trees—
If there comes humming like a harp in boughs,
Soft waves on pebbly beaches, or a breath
Ringing the golden bells of mountain flowers,
Know it is I, whose heart keeps music still
Among the broken strings you used to play!
