Then my brother curious, strong and bold, Tugged hard at the bolt Of the woven life; for a length unrolled The cryptic cloth.

He gasped for labor, blind for the moult Of the up-winged moth.

While I saw a growth and a mad crusade That the Loom had made; Land and water and living things, Till I grew afraid For mouths and claws and devil wings, And fangs and stings, And tiger faces with eyes of h.e.l.l In caves and holes.

And eyes in terror and terrible For awakened souls.

I stood above my brother, the G.o.d Unwinding the roll.

And a tale came forth of the woven slain Sequent and whole, Of flint and bronze, trowel and hod, The wheel and the plane, The carven stone and the graven clod Painted and baked.

And cromlechs, proving the human heart Has always ached; Till it puffed with blood and gave to art The dream of the dome; Till it broke and the blood shot up like fire In tower and spire.

And here was the Persian, Jew and Goth In the weave of the cloth; Greek and Roman, Ghibelline, Guelph, Angel and elf.

They were dyed in blood, tangled in dreams Like a comet's streams.

And here were surfaces red and rough In the finished stuff, Where the knotted thread was proud and rebelled As the shuttle proved The fated warp and woof that held When the shuttle moved; And pressed the dye which ran to loss In a deep maroon Around an altar, oracle, cross Or a crescent moon.

Around a face, a thought, a star In a riot of war!

Then I said to my brother, the G.o.d, let be, Though the thread be crushed, And the living things in the tapestry Be woven and hushed; The Loom has a tale, you can see, to tell, And a tale has told.

I love this Gobelin epical Of scarlet and gold.

If the heart of a G.o.d may look in pride At the wondrous weave It is something better to Hands which guide-- I see and believe.

DIALOGUE AT PERKO'S

Look here, Jack: You don't act natural. You have lost your laugh.

You haven't told me any stories. You Just lie there half asleep. What's on your mind?

JACK

What time is it? Where is my watch?

FLORENCE

Your watch Under your pillow! You don't think I'd take it.

Why, Jack, what talk for you.

JACK

Well, never mind, Let's pack no ice.

FLORENCE

What's that?

JACK

No quarreling-- What is the time?

FLORENCE

Look over towards my dresser-- My clock says half-past eleven.

JACK

Listen to that-- That hurdy-gurdy's playing Holy Night, And on this street.

FLORENCE

And why not on this street?

JACK

You may be right. It may as well be played Where you live as in front of where I work, Some twenty stories up. I think you're right.

FLORENCE

Say, Jack, what is the matter? Come! be gay.

Tell me some stories. Buy another bottle.

Just think you make a lot of money, Jack.

You're young and prominent. They all know you.

I hear your name all over town. I see Your picture in the papers. What's the matter?

JACK

I've lost my job for one thing.

FLORENCE

You don't mean it!

JACK

They used me and then fired me, same as you.

If you don't make the money, out you go.

FLORENCE

Yes, out I go. But, there are other places.

JACK

On further down the street.

FLORENCE

Not yet a while.

JACK

Not yet for me, but still the question is Whether to fight it out for up or down, Or run from everything, be free.