I Am Youth

I reached back

To that floatsome time

Before life had wrung the joy from me

And mangled me, leaving me old.

Spring laughed in October--

Then I knew:

I am my own touchstone; I am youth.

I lifted my head

And hurled a challenge--

The moon and stars hearing

Danced down to the lake

And bathed in its beauty.

I, myself, looked in its mystic mirror:

I saw no lines of age--

Youth looked back at me from my eyes

And my lips were tremulous with June.

With Circling Wings

Dark echelons of wild geese race the wind.
In answer to a mute yet urgent call
They seek a warmer marshland, disciplined
By more than earth. Unerringly in fall,
Germ-knowledged, they rise lazily and climb
In ever widening circles till they reach
The fringe of Heaven; then in pantomime
They form in place--no need for sound or speech.
Give me their pinioned faith, an anadem
Of clouds and stars. A far horizon's height
Is beckoning with circling wings. With them
I spiral upward, know the feel of flight.
How fragile are the chains of earth when I
See wild geese rising, touch October sky.

When Portals Close

How beautiful are those we love When finite portals gently close And precious memories unfold Like petals of a perfect rose!

In the Still Voice of Autumn

Earth-tethers are fragile by moon-rippled water--
Contralto its music--In still melodies
Beauty is calling, "Oh, sing for me, daughter!"
The harp of the white birch is strummed by the breeze.

The harvest moon poised on the crest of the mountain--
Silent--composes a sonnet of night
Then dances to bathe in the scarlet rimmed fountain
With virgin star-maidens. I sing my delight!

With a song of fulfillment, I sail to an islet
To view my Bright Harvest beyond its far peaks.
With peace my companion and beauty my pilot
In the still voice of autumn Infinity speaks.

To My Children

When I am old and years have brought their gray,
Should my step falter and my tiring mind
Revert again to childhood's simple way,
I would not be from you enclosed behind
Windows with padlocked screens and a heavy door
That opens only to attendant's keys;
Where sweet old mothers in their grief outpour
Their wistful longing in pathetic pleas
For their beloved dear ones to return
And take them home. But let the cheerful glow
Of a homey fireside warm my heart. I yearn
To be near you and watch your children grow.
As now you need my love, my sheltering too,
When I am old I shall have need of you.