Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Second Book of Modern Verse. 1922.

Apology

BE not angry with me that I bear

Your colours everywhere,

All through each crowded street,

And meet

The wonder-light in every eye,

As I go by.

Each plodding wayfarer looks up to gaze,

Blinded by rainbow haze,

The stuff of happiness,

No less,

Which wraps me in its glad-hued folds

Of peacock golds.

Before my feet the dusty, rough-paved way

Flushes beneath its gray.

My steps fall ringed with light,

So bright,

It seems a myriad suns are strown

About the town.

Around me is the sound of steepled bells,

And rich perfuméd smells

Hang like a wind-forgotten cloud,

And shroud

Me from close contact with the world.

I dwell impearled.

You blazen me with jewelled insignia.

A flaming nebula

Rims in my life. And yet

You set

The word upon me, unconfessed

To go unguessed.