Jenny was my first sweetheart;
Poor lass! she was none too smart.
Though I swore she'd never rue it,
She would never let me do it.
When I tried she mad a fuss,
So damn pure and virtuous.
Girls should cozen all they can,
Use their wiles to get their man.
June, my second, was no prude;
I’ve watched the Seasons passing slow, so slow,
In the fields between La Bassée and Bethune;
Primroses and the first warm day of Spring,
Red poppy floods of June,
August, and yellowing Autumn, so
To Winter nights knee-deep in mud or snow,
And you’ve been everything.
Dear, you’ve been everything that I most lack
In these soul-deadening trenches—pictures, books,
January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
So it is eighteen years,
Helena, since we met!
A season so endears,
Nor you nor I forget
The fresh young faces that once clove
In that most fiery dawn of love.
We wandered to and fro,
Who knew not how to woo,
Those eighteen years ago,
After the uprising of the 17th June
The Secretary of the Writers Union
Had leaflets distributed in the Stalinallee
Stating that the people
Had forfeited the confidence of the government
And could win it back only
By redoubled efforts. Would it not be easier
In that case for the government
To dissolve the people
And elect another?
Tanagers in green trees, swinging,
Scarlet night of pearl moon, singing,
A day's come of age, romance peak,
Kitty roams the wall, dark mystique,
Blooms lustrous, radiance clinging!
It was jazzy June and green butterflies, filled the air with magic.
Then butterscotch days were long, until the purple sunset panic.
Sunny June, when music festivals, were staged in shady parks;
While in treetops purple martins, warbled their musical remarks.
Late springtime everywhere, and sandy beaches were crowded;
And it seemed such a long spell, since skies had been clouded!
In the dreamy season of youth, blossoms preened everywhere,
glowing fragrant June
so lustrous on black waters
rare are golden nights
most green croaking frogs
slow fireflies at hide and seek
sweet summer midnight
in dreams I feel moon's caress
Pink skies will turn shimmery blue,
And reveal where the redbird flew,
As sunbeams sparkle on silvery dew,
At the golden rosy dawn, fully new!
Exotic birds will all sing in tune,
As butterflies seek the blooms of June,
And we'll make plans for the afternoon,
On the other side of alabaster moon!
My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.
God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.