Scintilla
I kissed a kiss in youth
Upon a dead man’s brow;
And that was long ago,--
And I’m a grown man now.
It’s lain there in the dust,
Thirty years and more;--
My lips that set a light
At a dead man’s door.
William Stanley Braithwaite
Häufigste Stimmungen
Gedichte
Del Cascar
Del Cascar, Del Cascar
Stood upon a flaming star,
Stood and let his feet hang down
Till in China the toes turned brown.
And he reached his fingers over
The rim of the sea, like sails from Dover,
And caught a Mandarin at prayer,
And tickled his nose in Orion’s hair.
The sun went down through crimson bars,
And left his blind face battered with stars--
But the brown toes in China kept
Hot the tears Del Cascar wept.
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Sandy Star and Willie Gee
Sandy Star and Willie Gee, Count 'em two, you make 'em three: Pluck the man and boy apart And you'll see into my heart.
Sandy Star: Sculptured Worship
The zones of warmth around his heart, No alien airs had crossed; But he awoke one morn to feel The magic numbness of autumnal frost.
His thoughts were a loose skein of threads, And tangled emotions, vague and dim; And sacrificing what he loved He lost the dearest part of him.
In sculptured worship now he lives, His one desire a prisoned ache; If he can never melt again His very heart will break.
Sandy Star: Laughing It Out
He had a whim and laughed it out Upon the exit of a chance; He floundered in a sea of doubt-- If life was real--or just romance.
Sometimes upon his brow would come A little pucker of defiance; He totalled in a word the sum Of all man made of facts and science.
And then a hearty laugh would break, A reassuring shrug of shoulder; And we would from his fancy take A faith in death which made life bolder.
Sandy Star: Exit
No, his exit by the gate Will not leave the wind ajar; He will go when it is late With a misty star.
One will call, he cannot see; One will call, he will not hear; He will take no company Nor a hope or fear.
We shall smile who loved him so-- They who gave him hate will weep; But for us the winds will blow Pulsing through his sleep.
Sandy Star: Onus Probandi
No more from out the sunset, No more across the foam, No more across the windy hills Will Sandy Star come home.
He went away to search it With a curse upon his tongue: And in his hand the staff of life, Made music as it swung.
I wonder if he found it, And knows the mystery now-- Our Sandy Star who went away, With the secret on his brow.
Turn Me to My Yellow Leaves
Turn me to my yellow leaves, I am better satisfied; There is something in me grieves-- That was never born, and died. Let me be a scarlet flame On a windy autumn morn, I who never had a name, Nor from breathing image born. From the margin let me fall Where the farthest stars sink down, And the void consumes me,--all In nothingness to drown. Let me dream my dream entire, Withered as an autumn leaf-- Let me have my vain desire, Vain--as it is brief.
Sic Vita
Heart free, hand free, Blue above, brown under, All the world to me Is a place of wonder. Sun shine, moon shine, Stars, and winds a-blowing, All into this heart of mine Flowing, flowing, flowing!
Mind free, step free, Days to follow after, Joys of life sold to me For the price of laughter. Girl's love, man's love, Love of work and duty, Just a will of God's to prove Beauty, beauty, beauty!
Rhapsody
I am glad daylong for the gift of song, For time and change and sorrow; For the sunset wings and the world-end things Which hang on the edge of to-morrow. I am glad for my heart whose gates apart Are the entrance-place of wonders, Where dreams come in from the rush and din Like sheep from the rains and thunders.
Biografie
William Stanley Braithwaite was an American poet, critic, and anthologist who lived from 1878 to 1962. Born in Boston, he became a prominent literary figure in the early decades of the twentieth century. His poetry collections, including "Lyrics of Life and Love" (1904) and "The House of Falling Leaves" (1908), reflect lyrical and meditative qualities, often exploring themes of love, nature, and spiritual aspiration. Braithwaite's verse is marked by formal conventionality and emotional restraint, drawing on traditional poetic forms. Beyond his own poetry, he is best known for his annual anthologies of magazine verse, which he compiled from 1913 to 1929, providing a comprehensive record of contemporary American poetry. These anthologies helped shape the canon and brought attention to many emerging poets, including African American writers. As a critic for the Boston Evening Transcript, he wielded considerable influence over literary taste. Though not closely associated with the Harlem Renaissance, he played a supportive role in promoting black poetry. His critical work and editorial efforts contributed to the recognition of American poetry as a serious art form. Braithwaite's legacy lies in his dual role as a poet and as a tireless advocate for American verse.
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