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!"

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54

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?

1

William Vaughn Moody.

Picture that orchard sprite,
Eve, with her body white,
Supple and smooth to her
Slim finger tips,

Wondering, listening,
Listening, wondering,
Eve with a berry
Half-way to her lips.

Oh had our simple Eve

Seen through the make-believe!
Had she but known the
Pretender he was!

Out of the boughs he came,
Whispering still her name,
Tumbling in twenty rings
Into the grass.

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32

Picture the lewd delight

Under the hill to-night-
"Eva!" the toast goes round,
"Eva!" again.

Ralph Hodgson.

64

THE LISTENERS

"IS THERE anybody there?" said the Traveller, Knocking on the moonlit door;

And his horse in the silence champed the grasses Of the forest's ferny floor:

And a bird flew up out of the turret,

Above the Traveller's head:

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And he smote upon the door again a second time;

"Is there anybody there?" he said.

But no one descended to the Traveller;

No head from the leaf-fringed sill

Leaned over and looked into his gray eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.

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