HERE is the world too beautiful! The brake Beneath a spirit breath stirs delicately: The waters hold the quiet of the sky And nothing is, saving for beauty’s sake! For this men toil; for this they sweat and ache;
For this did Buddha live and Jesus die—
That on an April night the moon may lie Tenderly on the bosom of a lake!
I must take flight from beauty: I must blur My eyes with city dust, for here my will Falters, aware that, whether late or soon I cease to strive, yet still the fern will stir To ghostly breathing, and the waters still Will lie as lovely underneath the moon.
ISSUE: Winter 1930