the wind's strong hand,

A fleet and shadowy column
Of dust or mountain rain,
To walk the earth a moment
And be dissolved again.

Be thou my exaltation
Or fortitude of mien,
Lord of the world's elation,
Thou breath of things unseen!

Gloucester Moors. [William Vaughn Moody]

A mile behind is Gloucester town
Where the fishing fleets put in,
A mile ahead the land dips down
And the woods and farms begin.
Here, where the moors stretch free
In the high blue afternoon,
Are the marching sun and talking sea,
And the racing winds that wheel and flee
On the flying heels of June.

Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue,
Blue is the quaker-maid,
The wild geranium holds its dew
Long in the boulder's shade.
Wax-red hangs the cup
From the huckleberry boughs,
In barberry bells the grey moths sup
Or where the choke-cherry lifts high up
Sweet bowls for their carouse.

Over the shelf of the sandy cove
Beach-peas blossom late.
By copse and cliff the swallows rove
Each calling to his mate.
Seaward the sea-gulls go,
And the land-birds all are here;
That green-gold flash was a vireo,
And yonder flame where the marsh-flags grow
Was a scarlet tanager.

This earth is not the steadfast place
We landsmen build upon;
From deep to deep she varies pace,
And while she comes is gone.
Beneath my feet I feel
Her smooth bulk heave and dip;
With velvet plunge and soft upreel
She swings and steadies to her keel
Like a gallant, gallant ship.

These summer clouds she sets for sail,
The sun is her masthead light,
She tows the moon like a pinnace frail
Where her phosphor wake churns bright.
Now hid, now looming clear,
On the face of the dangerous blue
The star fleets tack and wheel and veer,
But on, but on does the old earth steer
As if her port she knew.

God, dear God! Does she know her port,
Though she goes so far about?
Or blind astray, does she make her sport
To brazen and chance it out?
I watched when her captains passed:
She were better captainless.
Men in the cabin, before the mast,
But some were reckless and some aghast,
And some sat gorged at mess.

By her battened hatch I leaned and caught
Sounds from the noisome hold, —
Cursing and sighing of souls distraught
And cries too sad to be told.
Then I strove to go down and see;
But they said, "Thou art not of us!"
I turned to those on the deck with me
And cried, "Give help!" But they said, "Let be:
Our ship sails faster thus."

Jill-o'er-the-ground is purple blue,
Blue is the quaker-maid,
The alder-clump where the brook comes through
Breeds cresses in its shade.
To be out of the moiling street
With its swelter and its sin!
Who has given to me this sweet,
And given my brother dust to eat?
And when will his wage come in?

Scattering wide or blown in ranks,
Yellow and white and brown,
Boats and boats from the fishing banks
Come home to Gloucester town.
There is cash to purse and spend,
There are wives to be embraced,
Hearts to borrow and hearts to lend,
And hearts to take and keep to the end, —
O little sails, make haste!

But thou, vast outbound ship of souls,
What harbor town for thee?
What shapes, when thy arriving tolls,
Shall crowd the banks to see?
Shall all the happy shipmates then
Stand singing brotherly?
Or shall a haggard ruthless few
Warp her over and bring her to,
While the many broken souls of men
Fester down in the slaver's pen,
And nothing to say or do?

On a Subway Express. [Chester Firkins]

I, who have lost the stars, the sod,
 For chilling pave and cheerless light,
Have made my meeting-place with God
 A new and nether Night —

Have found a fane where thunder fills
 Loud caverns, tremulous; — and these
Atone me for my reverend hills
 And moonlit silences.

A figment in the crowded dark,
 Where men sit muted by the roar,
I ride upon the whirring Spark
 Beneath the city's floor.

In this dim firmament, the stars
 Whirl by in blazing files and tiers;
Kin meteors graze our flying bars,
 Amid the spinning spheres.

Speed! speed! until the quivering rails
 Flash silver where the head-light gleams,
As when on lakes the Moon impales
 The waves upon its beams.

Life throbs about me, yet I stand
 Outgazing on majestic Power;
Death rides with me, on either hand,
 In my communion hour.

You that 'neath country skies can pray,
 Scoff not at me — the city clod; —
My only respite of the Day
 Is this wild ride — with God.

The Automobile. [Percy MacKaye]

Fluid the world flowed under us: the hills
   Billow on billow of umbrageous green
   Heaved us, aghast, to fresh horizons, seen
One rapturous instant, blind with flash of rills
And silver-rising storms and dewy stills
   Of dripping boulders, till the dim ravine
   Drowned us again in leafage, whose serene
Coverts grew loud with our tumultuous wills.

Then all of Nature's old amazement seemed
   Sudden to ask us: "Is this also Man?
   This plunging, volant, land-amphibian
What Plato mused and Paracelsus dreamed?
   Reply!" And piercing us with ancient scan,
The shrill, primeval hawk gazed down — and screamed.

The Black Vulture. [George Sterling]

Aloof upon the day's immeasured dome,
   He holds unshared the silence of the sky.
   Far down his bleak, relentless eyes descry
The eagle's empire and the falcon's home —
Far down, the galleons of sunset roam;
   His hazards on the sea of morning lie;
   Serene, he hears the broken tempest sigh
Where cold sierras gleam like scattered foam.

And least of all he holds the human swarm —
 Unwitting now that envious men prepare
  To make their dream and its fulfillment one,
When, poised above the caldrons of the storm,
 Their hearts, contemptuous of death, shall dare
  His roads between the thunder and the sun.

Chavez. [Mildred McNeal Sweeney]

 So hath he fallen, the Endymion of the air,
  And so lies down in slumber lapped for aye.
 Diana, passing, found his youth too fair,
  His soul too fleet and willing to obey.
 She swung her golden moon before his eyes —
Dreaming, he rose to follow — and ran — and was away.

 His foot was winged as the mounting sun.
  Earth he disdained — the dusty ways of men
 Not yet had learned. His spirit longed to run
  With the bright clouds, his brothers, to answer when
 The airs were fleetest and could give him hand
Into the starry fields beyond our plodding ken.