Shapes of Clay

  A structure taller than their tallest ear.
Washington, May 4, 1903.

TO MAUDE.

  Not as two errant spheres together grind
    With monstrous ruin in the vast of space,
    Destruction born of that malign embrace,
  Their hapless peoples all to death consigned—
  Not so when our intangible worlds of mind,
    Even mine and yours, each with its spirit race
    Of beings shadowy in form and face,
  Shall drift together on some blessed wind.
  No, in that marriage of gloom and light
    All miracles of beauty shall be wrought,
      Attesting a diviner faith than man's;
  For all my sad-eyed daughters of the night
    Shall smile on your sweet seraphim of thought,
      Nor any jealous god forbid the banns.

THE BIRTH OF VIRTUE.

  When, long ago, the young world circling flew
  Through wider reaches of a richer blue,
  New-eyed, the men and maids saw, manifest,
  The thoughts untold in one another's breast:
  Each wish displayed, and every passion learned—
  A look revealed them as a look discerned.
  But sating Time with clouds o'ercast their eyes;
  Desire was hidden, and the lips framed lies.
  A goddess then, emerging from the dust,
  Fair Virtue rose, the daughter of Distrust.

STONEMAN IN HEAVEN.

  The Seraphs came to Christ, and said: 'Behold!
  The man, presumptuous and overbold,
  Who boasted that his mercy could excel
  Thine own, is dead and on his way to Hell.'
  Gravely the Saviour asked: 'What did he do
  To make his impious assertion true?'
  'He was a Governor, releasing all
  The vilest felons ever held in thrall.
  No other mortal, since the dawn of time,
  Has ever pardoned such a mass of crime!'
  Christ smiled benignly on the Seraphim:
  'Yet I am victor, for I pardon him.'

THE SCURRIL PRESS.

  TOM JONESMITH (loquitur): I've slept right through
  The night—a rather clever thing to do.
  How soundly women sleep (looks at his wife.)
  They're all alike. The sweetest thing in life
  Is woman when she lies with folded tongue,
  Its toil completed and its day-song sung.
  (Thump) That's the morning paper. What a bore
  That it should be delivered at the door.
  There ought to be some expeditious way
  To get it to one. By this long delay
  The fizz gets off the news (a rap is heard).
  That's Jane, the housemaid; she's an early bird;
  She's brought it to the bedroom door, good soul.
  (Gets up and takes it in.) Upon the whole
  The system's not so bad a one. What's here?
  Gad, if they've not got after—listen dear
  (To sleeping wife)—young Gastrotheos! Well,
  If Freedom shrieked when Kosciusko fell
  She'll shriek again—with laughter—seeing how
  They treated Gast. with her. Yet I'll allow
  'T is right if he goes dining at The Pup
  With Mrs. Thing.
  WIFE (briskly, waking up):
  With her? The hussy! Yes, it serves him right.
  JONESMITH (continuing to 'seek the light'):