Chicago May

CHICAGO MAY Asperge me, mundabor! Make me pure, ‘And wash me whiter than the snow! ‘That soon I who have slept in a Chicago sewer Be worthy of a marriage with the moon| ‘Oh! but the moon has purity enough, Lustral for all the least that she might love! Ah! then my heart flings free to flare afar Beyond the fierce phantastic flames of foam To Her, for strength and constancy a star, For magick she's the moon! to Her! to Home! “Blow, blow, thou wintry wind !"—and blow away ‘The last foul fetich of Chicago May! PART IV—CHERBOURG Max Yes: Iam you, but for a moment only. ‘That leaves an ache: that leaves me less than man, ‘That leaves me more than God, too sad, too lonely To do no matter what. Since love began With the partition of the first one thing ‘That was itself, there is no hope to be But the eternal grace—the queen and king Of no commensurable ecstasy. Ah God! I am not with you even now: ‘The New Moon shines on a divided love— Christ! T will get to you somehow: somehow I will redeem the affright these cold hours prove. an