Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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

The Tired Woman

Max Michelson

The Woman

Messengers of Rest

Messengers of Light

Messengers of Beauty

The Apparition

Scene: A street of ugly red-brick rooming-houses. It is sunny but clouds are visible. The Woman is walking slowly. Messengers of Rest, clad in dark-grey and carrying a flowered carpet, appear.

First Messenger, spreading the carpet:
Bend, grains of wool,

Keep the blows

Of the sharp earth

From her tired feet.

Second and third Messengers:
Curl under,

Bend halfway,

Lift them gently,

Push them softly.

First Messenger:
As the sea-children at play

Carry a ship,

As the delicate grass-spirits a bird.

[They disappear. Messengers of Light, dressed in gleaming greyish white, and riding on silver horses with gold reins, appear. They carry tall urns.]

Messengers of Light, pointing to the cloudy sky:
Odd-shaped monsters,

Some with tails and some with wings,

Pursued us,

But our gleaming silver horses

Outran them.

We see them—

Hurry—hurry!

[They pour from the urns something which makes the pieces of wood and stone shine, and then disappear. Messengers of Beauty, clad like wall-painters, and carrying long brushes, appear.]

First and second Messengers of Beauty, painting the walls and sprinkling through the open windows:
Sorrow and squalor

Fly, fly away!

Third and fourth Messengers of Beauty:
Spirit of beauty,

Spirit of youth,

Blow on tired hearts,

Breathe on tired eyes.

Fifth, sixth and seventh:
Pop up from your corners,

Delicate little joys—

Peeping joys,

Sleeping joys.

Wake up—sleeping lights,

Sleeping colors!

[The woman sits down on a bench in a little park which is near. The Apparition comes slowly and sits down on the edge of the bench.]

The Apparition:
Did I frighten you?

Shall I go away?

The Woman—in a low voice as if to herself:
Have I—seen you before?

Yes … years ago … Where?

The Apparition:
Years ago…. Yes.

You were young …

The Woman—dreamily:
Odorous grasses,

Trees molten in darkness,

A mild little wind

Bounding like a willow,

Like a playful dog …

The Apparition:
You were—

The Woman—as before:
I loved him.

I was not I—I was a spirit.

I was borne, borne …

The Apparition:
I know. I knew.

I knew all.

The Woman:
I think I can remember

A glimpse of your face

In the distance … always …

The Apparition—enigmatically:
Half of your kisses

Were for me.

The Woman:
For you?[As if from a trance.]

I climbed a mountain,

I waded a thick wood,

Your face always shone before me.

The butterfly

I could not catch …

The Apparition:
And later—in later years—

The Woman:
Yes,

In later years—

The Apparition:
Even when you were with Whiteley

That night in New York—

[The Woman screams and hides her face.]

The Apparition:
Even then

Your hands reached out to me,

Clutched at me.

The Woman, raising her tear-stained face a little:
Its wings shone

Even in the dark…. It was

Made of light.

The Apparition:
I kept each thorn

From going too deep

In your soul.

Each shame

I washed.

And the pain

I soothed,

Soothed …

[The Woman sits long with lowered head softly crying. Then she raises her face, and it beams with a strange proud light. The Apparition walks slowly away.]