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From Off the Road Database

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M
<div class="poem"> <p>He went to war and gained renown,<br /> In every fight he stood his ground,<br /> Bullets passed him thick and fast,<br /> Not a scratch from first to last. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>Fifth Avenue and April<br /> And love and lack of care —<br /> The world is mad with music<br /> Too beautiful to bear. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>The sunlight on the steeple,<br /> The toys we stop to see,<br /> The smiling passing people<br /> Are all for you and me. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>The shining line of motors,<br /> The swaying motor-bus,<br /> The prancing dancing horses<br /> Are passing by for us. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>"I love you and I love you"—<br /> "And oh, I love you, too!"—<br /> "All of the flower girl's lilies<br /> Were only grown for you!" </p> </div>  +
O
<div class="poem"> <p>Lilacs lift leaves of cool satin<br /> And blossoms of mother-of-pearl<br /> Against the tarnished silver of the deserted house.<br /> Tall, exquisite grasses fill the door-yard with spray.<br /> Through the sun-drenched fragrance drifts the hazy monotone of bees.<br /> Tints of opal and jade; the hush of emerald shadows,<br /> And a sense of the past as a living presence <br /> Distil a haunting wistful peace. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>About me young and careless feet<br /> Linger along the garish street;<br /> <span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 2em;"> Above, a hundred shouting signs</span><br /> Shed down their bright fantastic glow<br /> <span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 2em;"> Upon the merry crowd and lines</span><br /> Of moving carriages below:<br /> O wonderful is Broadway—only <br /> My heart, my heart is lonely. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>Desire naked, linked with Passion,<br /> Goes strutting by in brazen fashion;<br /> <span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 2em;"> From playhouse, cabaret and inn</span><br /> The rainbow lights of Broadway blaze<br /> <span class="mw-poem-indented" style="display: inline-block; margin-inline-start: 2em;"> All gay without, all glad within;</span><br /> As in a dream I stand and gaze<br /> At Broadway, shining Broadway—only<br /> My heart, my heart is lonely. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>Upon Returning to the Country Road </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>O nowhere, golden nowhere!<br /> Sages and fools go on<br /> To your chaotic ocean,<br /> To your tremendous dawn.<br /> Far in your fair dream-haven,<br /> Is nothing or is all...<br /> They press on, singing, sowing<br /> Wild deeds without recall! </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>Were the tramp-days knightly,<br /> True sowing of wild seed?<br /> Did you dare to make the songs<br /> Vanquished workmen need?<br /> Did you waste much money<br /> To deck a leper's feast?<br /> Love the truth, defy the crowd<br /> Scandalize the priest?<br /> On the road to nowhere<br /> What wild oats did you sow?<br /> Stupids find the nowhere-road<br /> Dusty, grim and slow. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>On the road to nowhere<br /> What wild oats did you sow<br /> When you left your father's house<br /> With your cheeks aglow?<br /> Eyes so strained and eager<br /> To see what you might see?<br /> Were you thief of were you fool<br /> Or most nobly free? </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>Ere their sowing's ended<br /> They turn them on their track,<br /> Look at the caitiff craven wights<br /> Repentant, hurrying back!<br /> Grown ashamed of nowhere,<br /> Of rags endured for years,<br /> Lust for velvet in their hearts,<br /> Pierced with Mammon's spears,<br /> All but a few fanatics<br /> Give up their darling goal,<br /> Seek to be as others are,<br /> Stultify the soul.<br /> Reapings now confront them,<br /> Glut them, or destroy.<br /> Curious seeds, grain or weeds<br /> Sown with awful joy.<br /> Hurried is their harvest,<br /> They make soft peace with men.<br /> Pilgrims pass. They care not,<br /> Will not tramp again. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>And yet she knows obstruction is in vain:<br /> We will not be put off the final goal<br /> We have it hidden in us to attain,<br /> Not though we have to seize earth by the pole </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>Insisting always on our own way so.<br /> She likes to halt us in our runner tracks,<br /> And make us get down in a foot of snow<br /> Debating what to do without an axe. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>(To hear us talk) </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>And, tired of aimless circling in one place,<br /> Steer straight off after something into space. </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>The tree the tempest with a crash of wood<br /> Throws down in front of us is not to bar<br /> Our passage to our journey's end for good,<br /> But just to ask us who we think we are </p> </div>  +
<div class="poem"> <p>Slow their floating step, but tireless, terraced down the great Plateau. <br /> Towards our ways of steam and wireless, silver-paced the brook-beds go. <br /> Past the ladder-walled Pueblos, past the orchards, pear and quince, <br /> Where the back-locked river’s ebb flows, miles and miles the valley glints, <br /> Shining backwards, singing downwards, towards horizons blue and bay. <br /> All the roofs the roads ensconce so dream of visions far away— <br /> Santa Cruz and Ildefonso, Santa Clara, Santa Fé. <br /> Ancient, sacred fears and faiths, ancient, sacred faiths and fears— <br /> Some were real, some were wraiths—Indian, Franciscan years, <br /> Built the Khivas, swung the bells; while the wind sang plain and free, <br /> "Turn your eyes from visioned hells!—look as far as you can see!" <br /> In the Santa Clara Valley, far away and far away, <br /> Dying dreams divide and dally, crystal-terraced waters sally— <br /> Linger towards another day, far and far away—far away. </p> </div>  +