And there in dread of eyes we stood Scanning the bluff and the beach, Lest in the briefest touch of lips We might be seen.

For there were eyes, or we thought There were eyes, on the porch of the lodge, And eyes along the forest's rim on the hill, And eyes on the sh.o.r.e.

But a minute past there was no sun, Only a star that shone like a match which lights To a blue intenseness amid the glow of a hearth.

And we sat on the sand as dusk came down In a communion of silence and low words.

Till you said at last: "We'll sup at the lodge, Then say good night to me and leave As if to stay overnight in the village.

But instead make a long detour through the wood And come to the sh.o.r.e through that ravine, Be here at the tent at midnight."

And so I did.

I stole through echoless ways, Where no twigs broke and where I heard My heart beat like a watch under a pillow.

And the whippoorwills were singing.

And the sound of the surf below me Was the sound of silver-poplar leaves In a wind that makes no pause....

I hurried down the steep ravine, And a bat flew up at my feet from the brush And crossed the moon.

To my left was the lighthouse, And black and deep purples far away, And all was still.

Till I stood breathless by the tent And heard your whispered welcome, And felt your kiss.

Lovers lay at mid-night On roofs of Memphis and Athens And looked at tropical stars As large as golden beetles.

Nothing is new, save this, And this is always new.

And there in your tent With the balm of the mid-night breeze Sweeping over us, We looked at one great star Through a flap of your many-colored tent, And the eternal quality of rapture And mystery and vision flowed through us.

Next day we went to Grand Haven, For my desire was your desire, Whatever wish one had the other had.

And up the Grand River we rowed, With rushes and lily pads about us, And the sand hills back of us, Till we came to a quiet land, A lotus place of farms and meadows.

And we tied our boat to Schmitty's dock, Where we had a dinner of fish.

And where, after resting, to follow your will We drifted back to Spring Lake-- And under a larger moon, Now almost full, Walked three miles to The Beeches, By a winding country road, Where we had supper.

And afterwards a long sleep, Waking to the song of robins.

And that day I said: There are wild places, blue water, pine forests, There are apple orchards, and wonderful roads Around Elk Lake--shall we go?

And we went, for your desire was mine.

And there we climbed hills, And ate apples along the shaded ways, And rolled great boulders down the steeps To watch them splash in the water.

And we stood and wondered what was beyond The farther sh.o.r.e two miles away.

And we came to a place on the sh.o.r.e Where four great pine trees stood, And underneath them wild flowers to the edge Of sand so soft for naked feet.

And here, for not a soul was near, We stripped and swam far out, laughing, rejoicing, Rolling and diving in those great depths Of bracing water under a glittering sun.

There were farm houses enough For food and shelter.

But something urged us on.

One knows the end and dreads the end Yet seeks the end.

And you asked, "Is there a town near?

Let's see a town."

So we walked to Traverse City Through cut-over land and blasted Trunks and stumps of pine, And by the side of desolate hills.

But when we got to Traverse City You were not content, nor was I.

Something urged us on.

Then you thought of Northport And of its Norse and German fishermen, And its quaint piers where they smoke fish.

So we drove for thirty miles In a speeding automobile Over hills, around sudden curves, into warm coverts, Or hollows, sometimes at the edge of the Bay, Again on the hill, From where we could see Old Mission Amid blues and blacks, across a score of miles of the Bay, Waving like watered silk under the moon!

And by meadows of clover newly cut, And by peach orchards and vineyards.

But when we came to the little town Already asleep, though it was but eight o'clock, And only a few drowsy lamps With misty eyelids shone from a store or two, I said, "Do you see those twinkling lights?

That's Northport Point, that's the Cedar Cabin-- Let's go to the Cedar Cabin."

And so we crossed the Bay Amid great waves in a plunging launch, And a roaring breeze and a great moon, For now the moon was full.

So here was the Cedar Cabin On a strip of land as wide as a house and lawn, And on one side Lake Michigan, And on one side the Bay.

There were distances of color all around, And stars and darknesses of land and trees, And at the point the lighthouse.

And over us the moon, And over the balcony of our room All of these, where we lay till I slept, Listening to the water of the lake, And the water of the Bay.

And we saw the moon sink like a red bomb, And we saw the stars change As the sky wheeled....

Now this was the end of the earth, For this strip of land Ran out to a point no larger than one of the stumps We saw on the desolate hills.

And moreover it seemed to dive under, Or waste away in a sudden depth of water.

And around it was a swirl, To the north the bounding waves of the Lake, And to the south the Bay which seemed the Lake.

But could we speak of it, even though I saw your eyes when you thought of it?

A sigh of wind blew through the rustic temple When we saw this symbol together, And neither spoke.

But that night, somewhere in the beginning of drowsiness, You said: "There is no further place to go, We must retrace."

And I awoke in a torrent of light in the room, Hearing voices and steps on the walk: I looked for you, But you had arisen.

Then I dressed and searched for you, But you were gone.

Then I stood for long minutes Looking at a sail far out at sea And departed too.

THE STAR

I am a certain G.o.d Who slipped down from a remote height To a place of pools and stars.

And I sat invisible Amid a clump of trees To watch the madmen.

There were cries and groans about me, And shouts of laughter and curses.

Figures pa.s.sed by with self-absorbed contempt, Wrinkling in bitter smiles about their lips.

Others hurried on with set eyes Pursuing something.

Then I said this is the place for mad Frederick-- Mad Frederick will be here.

But everywhere I could see Figures sitting or standing By little pools.

Some seemed grown into the soil And were helpless.

And of these some were asleep.

Others laughed the laughter That comes from dying men Trying to face Death.

And others said "I should be content,"

And others said "I will fly."

Whereupon sepulchral voices muttered, As of creatures sitting or hanging head down From limbs of the trees, "We will not let you."

And others looked in their pools And clasped hands and said "Gone, all gone."

By other pools there were dead bodies: Some of youth, some of age.

They had given up the fight, They had drunk poisoned water, They had searched Until they fell-- All had gone mad!

Then I, a certain G.o.d, Curious to know What it is in pools and stars That drives men and women Over the earth in this quest Waited for mad Frederick.

And then I heard his step.

I knew that long ago He sat by one of these pools Enraptured of a star's image.

And that hands, for his own good, As they said, Dumped clay into the pool And blotted his star.

And I knew that after that He had said, "They will never spy again Upon my ecstasy.

They will never see me watching one star.

I will fly by rivers, And by little brooks, And by the edge of lakes, And by little bends of water, Where no wind blows, And glance at stars as I pa.s.s.

They will never spy again Upon my ecstasy."

And I knew that mad Frederick In this flight Through years of restless and madness Was caught by the image of a star In a mere beyond a meadow Down from a hill, under a forest, And had said, "No one sees; Here I can find life, Through vision of eternal things."

But they had followed him.

They stood on the brow of the hill, And when they saw him gazing in the water They rolled a great stone down the hill, And shattered the star's image.