Max Michelson
Reading edition
O BROTHER TREE
O brother tree! O brother tree! Tell to me, thy brother,
The secret of thy life,
The wonder of thy being.
My brother tree, my brother tree,
My heart is open to thee—
Reveal me all thy secrets.
Beloved tree, beloved tree,
I have shattered all my pride.
I love thee, brother, as myself.
Oh, explain to me thy wonders.
Beloved one, adored one,
I will not babble of it among fools—
I will tell it only to the unspoiled:
Reveal to me thy being.
I have watched thy leaves in sunshine,
I have heard them in the storm.
My heart drank a droplet of thy holy joy and wonder,
One drop from the ocean of thy wonder.
I am thy humble brother—I am thine own.
Reveal thy life to me,
Reveal thy calm joy to me,
Reveal to me thy serene knowledge.
223
THE BIRD
From a branch
The bird called:
I hold your heart
I wash it
And scour it
With bits of song
Like pebbles;
And your doubts
And your sorrows
Fall—drip, drip, drip—
Like dirty water.
I pipe to it
In little notes
Of life clear as a pool,
And of death
Clearer still;
And I swoop with it
In the blue
And in the nest
Of a cloud.
STORM
Storm,
Wild one,
Take me in your whirl,
In your giddy reel,
In your shot-like leaps and flights.
Hear me call—stop and hear.
I know you, blusterer; I know you, wild one—
I know your mysterious call.
224
A HYMN TO NIGHT
Come, mysterious night;
Descend and nestle to us.
Descend softly on the houses
We built with pride,
Without worship.
Fold them in your veil,
Spill your shadows.
Come over our stores and factories,
Hide our pride—our shame—
With your nebulous wings.
Come down on our cobbled streets:
Unleash your airy hounds.
Come to the sleepers, night;
Light in them your fires.
LOVE LYRIC
Stir—
Shake off sleep.
Your eyes are the soul of clear waters—
Pigeons
In a city street.
Suns now dead
Have tucked away of their gold for your hair:
My buried mouth still tastes their fires.
A tender god built your breasts—
Apples of desire;
Their whiteness slakes the throat;
Their form soothes like honey.
225Wake up!
Or the song-bird in my heart
Will peck open the shell of your dreams.
· · · · ·
Sleep, my own,
Soaring over rivers of fire.
Sleep, my own,
Wading waters of gold.
Joy is in my heart—
It flutters around in my soul.
... Softly—
I hear the rosy dreams ...