-Gertie Stewart Phillips

Swallows at Evening 

 Revealment

Well I remember our two selves

Going to seek arbutus bloom,

Searching a mountain's oaken shelves,

Cluttered with leaves, for their perfume.

How pungent was the scent of fir

From needles and the perished cones! 

I mind a stream that laughed, the whirr

Of startled wings, gray lichened stones.

We had not learned war's cruel ways

With youth and love; how with a thong

Of hate it binds the lyric phase

Throats use in fabricating song.

Now I am wise. In that dim space

Above earth's chaos where you dwell,

Know you how time acquires a pace

Only a snail can parallel?

Slow as the tread of one who weaves

A pathway on the ledge of spring--

Faithless, until the shrouding leaves

Reveal arbutus blossoming.

 Snow At Dawn

The evening shivers in the glacial blast;

A lonely tree bends while its tattered cowl

Streams in the air; in restless limbs an owl

Cries, as the final rusted leaf is cast,

No star is visible; a cloud wrought door

Interns the full moon in a dismal cell.

As winds intone dead autumn's funeral knell

Again the owl calls from the sycamore.

O loneliness of dark that waits the dawn!

Could a tumultuous heart but be as sure

Its desolation only would endure

Until the night of starless hours is gone,

And with the morning wear a seamless dress

Of tranquil, unimagined loveliness!

With loneliness I eat and sup,

We two wash one blue plate and cup;

(There's no one now to clutter up.)

Cleansing a knife, and fork, and spoon

Requires but minutes, and too soon

The sun is like a gold balloon

And we must drink again, and eat.

(My little girl was glad and sweet

With ringlets colored like ripe wheat.)

Why two should use one fork, one knife,

I could not tell you for my life--

I'll ask a neighboring housewife.

But loneliness tugs at my sleeve:

"Better we wait awhile and grieve

And watch the loom of shadows weave

A somber tapestry instead."

(My baby's lips were warm and red)

And then we two creep into bed.

*this sad little poem seems to indicate the loss of a child

 Grapes of Song

 Earth's Orbit Circles True

My lips drank deep of joy,

Drained the harsh cup of grief;

One proved a singing boy,

And one a thief.

Inebriates, the quaffed

Joy's chalice till I knew

Lips must forego the draft

For sterner brew.

Too long, O grief, I supped

The vintage of your vine;

Now grapes of song have cupped

A sweeter wine.

Walking where centuries had trod

I touched a fruited pear,

Saw dandelions mark the sod

Like constellations there.

Who starred the grass with gold, I knew

Spoke to the willing tree;

Earth's unseen orbit circles true

Because of Deity.

Yet there are scoffers who refute

The inexplicable Power,

Who cannot even shape one fruit

Or fabricate a flower.