I looked at her and felt her watching; I became a strange being.

Still, I had my right to be there with her,

Her nimble shadow trotting along the sky-line, she put back her fine, level-balanced head.

And I knew her.

Ah yes, being male, is not my head hard-balanced, antlered?

Are not my haunches light?

Has she not fled on the same wind with me?

Does not my fear cover her fear?

IRSCHENHAUSEN

_SONG OF A MAN WHO IS NOT LOVED_

THE s.p.a.ce of the world is immense, before me and around me; If I turn quickly, I am terrified, feeling s.p.a.ce surround me; Like a man in a boat on very clear, deep water, s.p.a.ce frightens and confounds me.

I see myself isolated in the universe, and wonder What effect I can have. My hands wave under The heavens like specks of dust that are floating asunder.

I hold myself up, and feel a big wind blowing Me like a gadfly into the dusk, without my know- ing Whither or why or even how I am going.

So much there is outside me, so infinitely Small am I, what matter if minutely I beat my way, to be lost immediately?

How shall I flatter myself that I can do Anything in such immensity? I am too Little to count in the wind that drifts me through.

GLASHuTTE

_SINNERS_

THE big mountains sit still in the afternoon light Shadows in their lap; The bees roll round in the wild-thyme with de- light.

We sitting here among the cranberries So still in the gap Of rock, distilling our memories

Are sinners! Strange! The bee that blunders Against me goes off with a laugh.

A squirrel c.o.c.ks his head on the fence, and wonders

What about sin?--For, it seems The mountains have No shadow of us on their snowy forehead of dreams

As they ought to have. They rise above us Dreaming For ever. One even might think that they love us.

_Little red cranberries cheek to cheek, Two great dragon-flies wrestling; You, with your forehead nestling Against me, and bright peak shining to peak--_

There's a love-song for you!--Ah, if only There were no teeming Swarms of mankind in the world, and we were less lonely!

MAYRHOFEN

_MISERY_

OUT of this...o...b..iette between the mountains five valleys go, five pa.s.ses like gates; three of them black in shadow, two of them bright with distant sunshine; and sunshine fills one high valley bed, green gra.s.s shining, and little white houses like quartz crystals, little, but distinct a way off.

Why don't I go?

Why do I crawl about this pot, this...o...b..iette, stupidly?

Why don't I go?

But where?

If I come to a pine-wood, I can't say Now I am arrived!

What are so many straight trees to me!

STERZING

_SUNDAY AFTERNOON IN ITALY_

THE man and the maid go side by side With an interval of s.p.a.ce between; And his hands are awkward and want to hide, She braves it out since she must be seen.

When some one pa.s.ses he drops his head Shading his face in his black felt hat, While the hard girl hardens; nothing is said, There is nothing to wonder or cavil at.

Alone on the open road again With the mountain snows across the lake Flushing the afternoon, they are uncomfortable, The loneliness daunts them, their stiff throats ache.

And he sighs with relief when she parts from him; Her proud head held in its black silk scarf Gone under the archway, home, he can join The men that lounge in a group on the wharf.

His evening is a flame of wine Among the eager, cordial men.

And she with her women hot and hard Moves at her ease again.

_She is marked, she is singled out For the fire: The brand is upon him, look--you, Of desire.

They are chosen, ah, they are fated For the fight!

Champion her, all you women! Men, menfolk Hold him your light!

Nourish her, train her, harden her Women all!

Fold him, be good to him, cherish him Men, ere he fall.

Women, another champion!

This, men, is yours!

Wreathe and enlap and anoint them Behind separate doors._

GARGNANO

_WINTER DAWN_

GREEN star Sirius Dribbling over the lake; The stars have gone so far on their road, Yet we're awake!

Without a sound The new young year comes in And is half-way over the lake.

We must begin