White faces,
Like helpless petals on the stream,
Swirl by,
Or linger,
And then go..
Ancient summer burns
Where green trees branch
From palaces of stone;
I see the brightness
Through a throbbing gloom,
While a death rattles
To a tripping melody..
Hot laughter comes,
With tears of ice,
Where Wear is God
And God is War;
For He has torn
The gallant spirits that He gave,
Till joy is agony,
And agony is joy..
Night falls with its olden touch,
But sleep comes
Like a bloody man,
And the stars
Are wounded birds
That fall
For ever..
(Helen Dircks)