Night Wind

Wind prowls through my house tonight
Restlessly, uneasily,
Like a lost soul seeking a place to lie–
To rest forever.
Stealthily he enters my room,
Moves a curtain,
Shakes each window
Separately, distinctly–
Lifts a paper from the table by my bed
And throws it in disgust upon the floor,
Where in the morning it will bear
Mute evidence to the prowler of the night.
He touches my face with ghostly fingers,
Clammy, yet incredibly gentle,
Then moans tiredly and moves on to other rooms,
Perhaps to other houses than mine,
— Still unsatisfied.

April 9, 1939



Often at my work I’ve thought and planned,
My heart soaring off to some enchanted land.
I’ve wandered far and far away
From this, our world of toil and play,
Until at last my roaming Gypsy mind,
Returning from those glamorous lands,
Is startled, wonderstruck to find
I’ve done so little with my hands!

January 24, 1937

Lost Friend

Perhaps I have seen you in some busy street
And, in passing, brushed your elbow–
And you are the friend I have wanted to meet
Whom now I shall never know.

Regrettable, surely, that we lost so much
That we never actually had;
For I could have helped you with one subtle touch,
And your smile could have made me glad.

September 29, 1940