Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Edgar Allan Poe

DuBose Heyward

ONCE in the starlight

When the tides were low,

And the surf fell sobbing

To the undertow,

I trod the windless dunes

Alone with Edgar Poe.

Dim and far behind us,

Like a fabled bloom

On the myrtle thickets,

In the swaying gloom

Hung the clustered windows

Of the barrack-room.

Faint on the evening,

Tenuous and far

As the beauty shaken

From a vagrant star,

Throbbed the ache and passion

Of an old guitar.

Life closed behind us

Like a swinging gate,

Leaving us unfettered

And emancipate;

Confidants of Destiny,

Intimates of Fate.

I could only cower

Silent, while the night,

Seething with its planets,

Parted to our sight,

Showing as infinity

In its breadth and height.

But my chosen comrade,

Tossing back his hair

With the old loved gesture,

Raised his face, and there

Shone that agony that those

Loved of God must bear.

Oh, we heard the many things

Silence has to say—

He and I together

As alone we lay

Waiting for the slow sweet

Miracle of day.

When the bugle’s silver

Spiralled up the dawn

Dew-clear, night-cool,

And the stars were gone,

I arose exultant,

Like a man new-born.

But my friend and master,

Heavy-limbed and spent,

Turned, as one must turn at last

From the sacrament;

And his eyes were deep with God’s

Burning discontent.