Skip to main content

For This

ISSUE:  Winter 1930

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.


This question is for testing whether or not you are a human visitor and to prevent automated spam submissions.

Recommended Reading