ISSUE: Spring 1925
My song has raised windows fronting
On the north and on the south;
Tapestried and awning-shaded,
Beauty has been barricaded
Behind many, and has vanished
Back of others, and been banished
Because passion serenaded
Roguish eye and rosy mouth…
My song has raised windows looking
Over the lagoons of youth.
Life in age has been enduring,
Ay, and love has been alluring
As a candle the more brightly
Shining when not blown too lightly
By a passion beyond curing,
Save by some flower-telling truth…
Singing under tropic windows
Strays a northern troubadour,
Exiled from a land of labor,
Traveling with pipe and tabor,
Idlewild in seeking rapture,
And a wonder way to capture
Love—and make of it a neighbor
That resolves to move no more.
