Can it be that sometime

I shall not know when Night

Lets down her sweet dark tresses o'er the world, When the plum tree blooms,

When you stand pensive in the moonlight?

Poems After the Chinese

ANNE W. BUFFUM

Mt. Holyoke College

I

When the white plum-blossoms rest like butterflies upon the branches I shall play upon my slender flute.

I shall make a song for the little god in my garden; he smiles perpetually at the bowl of iris between his knees.

II

Like the thin smoke of leaf-burning my soul rises.

Like the foam-flowers of the wild cherry my soul drifts through the amorous willows. Like the silent junks upon the silver platter of the lake my soul moves toward the sunset.

III

I have made a little god of carved jade. The smell of incense floats up to his nostrils graciously.

I have made him a necklace of amber. But he stares ceaselessly past me at the colored picture on the opposite wall.

IV

I watch your shadow passing and passing on the wall of the shoji;

I sing you a reed-song on my willow flute.

I whisper the silver of your name to the white lilies by the river;

Are you remembering that I love you?

To Majsa

JOSEF A. KINDWALL

University of Minnesota

That gold is far more precious which is hid

Close in the mountain's heart;

That pearl more fair which, ocean's deep amid,
Tempts the bold diver's art;

The flower is sweeter which we cannot yet
With trembling fingers press,

And music faintly heard inspires regret

That wakens eagerness.

And Majsa, wisely shy and yet uncaught,
By Nature all these lessons has been taught!

GRACE NYSTROM

Fancies

Macalester College

I tho't I heard your laugh today
Imprisoned in a waterfall;

So sweet, the willows bent to hear

And passing bluebirds hushed their call.

I tho't I saw your smile today.
A shy, red rose did turn to me
With ruddy shadows on her lips,
And all the garden leaned to see.

I tho't I saw your tears today
Hang on the tree tops all alone.
I sensed a pain within my heart

And found the teardrops were my own.