The Project Gutenberg eBook of Moods
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: Moods
Prose poems
Author: Mercedes de Acosta
Release date: August 5, 2026 [eBook #79277]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Moffat, Yard and Company, 1919
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79277
Credits: Sam Lamb and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOODS ***
MOODS
MOODS
_Prose Poems
by
Mercedes de Acosta_
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1919
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY
CONTENTS
PAGE
MEMORY 3
FAITH 5
LOVE 7
DISGUST 10
JOY 13
DESPAIR 16
TENDERNESS 18
HURT FEELINGS 22
WEARINESS 24
OPPORTUNITY 26
TIME 28
REVELATION 31
FINDING GOD 34
BRAINSTORM 38
PEACE 41
TWILIGHT DREAMS 44
INTRODUCTION
There is a happy gift revealed in these little pastels, vignettes, or
whatever one wishes to name such fragments that Miss de Acosta has
written and which refuse to be catalogued and classified. They stand
out in one’s reading in refreshing contrast to many opaque books of
verse. They are not poetry; but they are the most singable prose, and
they have a haunting quality, a breath of mystery, as though a ghost
walked in a garden. They are strange, but they are human too; for if
Miss de Acosta has anything it is a belief in, and an understanding
of, her fellow human beings. In the little picture of the tired woman
in the subway she shows with what feeling her heart is charged; and in
the fragment of the studio, the climax is deftly approached. Brief as
these glimpses of human experience are, they leave one with a sense
of finality. It is as though a door were suddenly opened, or a window
quickly raised--and then as suddenly closed again. But one has seen the
room in its entirety, and the interior has been photographed on the
brain.
Miss de Acosta, who comes forward here with her first volume, bears
promise of even finer achievement. I like the perfume of these flowers.
And I like her directness, her obvious sincerity, her passion for the
truth as Life reveals it to her, and her endeavor to give the reader a
swift, vivid picture. She may go very far.
CHARLES HANSON TOWNE.
MEMORY
Do you know I am living tonight in a
cloud of memory?
I, who always preach to you of looking
forward, am sitting here silently looking
backward and tearing the veil from off
the dead faces of the past.
Memory is a strange thing, so poignant and
alive in its insistence, so dead and
lifeless in its reality, so cruel and
portentous in its regrets.
It is curious how, merely in the brain,
wide vistas of recollection can be opened,
and whole pictures of the past stretch
before us by simply recalling the touch
of a hand, by the stirring of a soft
breath of wind, by a sad prolonged
street cry, or by the heavy atmospheric
pressure of a warm summer’s night.
Sometimes it is a strain of music across
far waters that brings back long-distant
years; again it is the odor of a box suddenly
opened, which gives forth the fragrance
of violets or rose leaves long since
dead and which instantly brings a tug
at the heart strings and fills the throat
with burning tears.
It seems to me a comparatively easy thing
to suppress our memories during the day, when
a host of things come clamoring and crowding
for us to accomplish.
But the past, with its sad, tragic eyes and
fantastic shapes, its shrill, melancholy wails
and dear, dead voices, its heavily perfumed
flowers, its vibrating, pulsing music, its
soft, caressing touches and maddening, heart-rending
regrets--these all come filing
back one by one and play upon the soul
and make the lips turn white....
Sometimes at night!
FAITH
I think it does not matter so much what we believe
as what we _want_ to believe,--the desire seems
to me greater than the accomplishment.
They say “men live by hope,” but I feel men must
live by faith or else they perish.
Or perhaps faith and hope are very closely akin--
one being the Touch of God, and the other being
the Breath of a Divine Perfume He has tossed
out upon the world, so that man might still
find a smile where there seemed only to be tears.
Today I do not feel that I am groping my way
as I have heretofore done, but a strange exaltation
is in me as though a star had caught in my hair,
or as if a piece of the moon had come down and
brushed against my cheek.
I wonder could you understand if I told you why?
If I tell you that for days and nights my soul
has been writhing in a corner of darkness,--
oppressed by a thousand apprehensions and crushed
by the weight of fear?
Until today no light has come its way and yet
do you know that in that solitude and stillness
I have been conscious of a little something
stirring in me and trying to make me believe
that help _would_ come?
But the dreariness came again and strange
grotesque shapes pressed about me and bade
me let go and sink and sink....
Then I lay despairing and could not move
or raise my eyes--but suddenly, when
my faith had almost ceased to be....
God put out His Hand and, stooping down--touched me!
LOVE
It seems absurd I did not recognize it at once,
but at first my thoughts were indefinite
and I did not know by what name to call it.
I had always looked upon it as something
so much more personal and individual, and
coming this way as it did, it seemed new and
strange. It came to me in the subway.
I remember it had been raining and as I
entered the train I remarked to myself on
the hideous smell of damp clothing and
dripping umbrellas. At first the crowd was
oppressive; I who hate crowds so, shrank
a little and tried to gain my balance. It
was just then the peculiar thing happened....
Suddenly, in spite of the fact that I was
pushed and pulled here and there I did not
seem to mind. A man rose giving me a seat,
and as I sank into it and the crowds thinned
out at a station, I looked across the train
and saw a woman dozing in the corner. Her
face was worn, white and pinched;
her clothes dirty and her hat sliding off.
Every time the train swayed her head lurched
forward, each second seeming to assume a more
uncomfortable position. I looked at her
pathetic face and longed with all my heart
to put her tired head upon my shoulder,
taking my coat and wrapping it around her
emaciated form.
Then I looked down the train and saw an old man;
he had apparently been to the hospital, because
his head was bandaged and his face contracted
from time to time in pain. He gazed slyly
about, and when he thought no one was looking
he spat upon the floor between his legs.
Ordinarily I should have wanted to kill
him for it, but then, oddly enough, I felt
no disgust but only a great pity and sympathy
for him.
A small child opposite was screaming shrilly
and every few seconds licking the window pane,
while his parents fought and argued with each
other beside him. I wanted to take their hands
and tell them not to quarrel and I longed to
take the child on my lap; cuddling it to me
and distracting it from the soiled window pane.
Then as I gazed at all the faces along the seats
a great understanding and sympathy for them sprang
up within me. I wished I could take them by
the hand one by one out into the sunlight, giving
them what they most desired, and then be able to
rejoice at their good fortune in which I would
share no part.
I forgot myself completely and a spirit of
exaltation came to me such as I had never
experienced before. The subway ceased to smell
and upon each face and in my heart I seemed to
discern a great light.
I held my breath while I felt as if I were being
carried on by some unknown harmony and rhythm;
I was sure that all the eyes in the train had
grown kindly and that no one harbored evil in
his heart.
Before the feeling faded away--as I knew it would--
and left me again my same selfish and miserable
self, I longed to ascertain what this sublime
mood could be. As I wondered, back from my brain
and all the way down to my heart I heard the
words beating and hammering my answer----
“This is love!” they cried.
DISGUST
Do you remember the day I left your house so
suddenly and rushed out on the street?
Or perhaps you do not recall it and did not
remark my absence,--you had so many people there,
and your house was fragrant with such quantities
of flowers, and every one seemed to pretend at being
gay, even if he were not.
And I? I left it all behind me because I heard
you boasting in such a light-hearted way of all we
had dreamed of and loved so well.
My heart trembled at your careless words and I
closed my ears and rushed out before you should have
killed my last illusion and made me hate you.
Your house, which a few moments before seemed gay
and bright, suddenly flung from out its windows the
flag of hypocrisy, and became meaningless and empty.
My head ached; and I hurried aimlessly along the
street peering into the faces of the passers-by,
thinking that in humanity I should find a solace and
an answer.... But they only pushed and knocked against
me and not one spirit spoke to me.
Then I went into the museum and thought that there
with art I could find revelation and be comforted.
So I walked through the galleries, but I was followed
unendingly by the same unsparing mob that
jostled me in the streets and suspicious guards
glared at me while all around hung low rows
of portraits in heterogeneous fashion which, melting
into one another, lost their personality and meant
nothing to me.
So I dragged myself out again into the spring
air and walked wearily toward the park. There,
reaching a bench, I sank down and thought
at last I could relax undisturbed.
But a drunken man came and sat beside
me and nudged my elbow, so I rose and moved
away and wondered if there were any place
in the whole wide world where one could be
really alone and unimbittered.
Friendship, art and all the things I cherished
seemed to have failed me.
Suddenly I thought of death!
Then, meditating on the last long sleep, a
sense of great peace and the solitude I
had longed for came over me....
But only for a brief instant, because I
remembered with anguish that, even in
death, one could not be alone; and the
thought of overcrowded and congested
cemeteries filled my soul with horror;
and I shuddered!
JOY
I looked out of the window at the snow
on the ground and something in the
sunlight made me throw aside my books
and go out.
I do not recall how I reached there,
but I found myself in the heart of the
park, and maybe because it was so
early, or I do not know quite why,--
it seemed empty,--I looked across the
white stretch of glistening snow and
my heart beat with joy at being alone.
Suddenly something very odd happened to me:
Everything and everyone in my life
seemed to drop away from me; I felt
as though my spirit had been freed
and as if no harm could ever come
to me again.
So I laughed and blew my breath out
in the cold air and waved it good-bye,
and I shouted aloud and tossed the
snow from side to side with my feet.
I knew you would be waiting for me and
be angry, but that and all things else
seemed very remote and far away, so
I dismissed it from my mind and did not
think of it again.
Then I pretended I was Columbus discovering
America and I called out “land ahead.”
But after, I changed and pretended I was
Jeanne d’Arc leading the French army,
and all the while sang the Marseillaise
because it thrilled me so and I waved my
arms and danced.
Then I decided to be the wind, and I
ran as fast as I could and fell down
in the snow, jumped up again and laughed
some more.
I threw kisses and made faces at the sun
and I tried to catch the little diamonds
that gleamed on the snow,--but each one
lured me on to another, until it seemed
like an eternal mirage,--so I stood still,
drew a long breath and thanked God for Life!
Then as I walked on I felt that I possessed
everything, because I had youth, health
and ambition.
And the whole world seemed to be stretching
out its alluring hands before me with
wonderful rose-tipped fingers!
DESPAIR
One day I said, “There is no such thing as
love,” and something closed up within
me; and although I looked upon people
I knew I did not see them. Some horrible
apprehension seemed to grip at my heart
with ice-boned hands. I felt nauseated
and sick.
I went home and closed my door and, for
the first time in my life, threw my
books into a corner and broke my pens
and pencils.
After that outburst I sat down and tried
to think, but all my thoughts seemed
draped in long garbs of black crepe that,
stealing in and out through my mind like
phantoms on tiptoe, gave me no peace.
I thought what a failure my life had been
and I believed every one had deserted me.
I longed to die!
I saw your roses, but I threw them
on the floor and stepped on them because
they seemed fresh and gay; and a thousand
sad thoughts rushed through my mind, while
I felt as if I were being oppressed by
all the nightmares of the world and beating
my soul against a closed iron door.
Then I remembered that people said “tears soothe
the heart;” so I prayed to be allowed to weep,
but instantly cursed myself for praying
and cried aloud, “There is no God!”
And all night long I sat in darkness, staring
into space with clenched hands, repeating the
words over and over again, “No love, no hope”--
“No love, no hope”....
TENDERNESS
They always said of her that she was selfish
and spoiled and that, although she lived in a
big house and had everything in the world
money could buy, no one really cared about her
for herself.
They admitted she had beauty, but they said her
face was hard and bitter and that her only
power lay in her worldly prosperity, which had
a certain empty, insincere following,--but
that she had no real influence because she did
not have a heart and no one loved her.
I used to hear them talking about her rudeness
and her detached indifference, and they seemed
to excite themselves greatly about her,
and grow angry and shrug their shoulders;
then they would always end by thanking God
they were not like her.
After these discussions--in which I took no
part--I always went home and thought about her.
And then one day I went to hear Kreisler play.
I think he played more exquisitely than I had
ever heard him before; perhaps it was the
music of Beethoven that moved me so or,
more likely, the mingling of both their spirits
that tore so plaintively at my soul.
Whatever the cause, I felt a great spell upon me,
and I saw nothing and was not conscious where
I was until, suddenly and accidentally, my eyes
fell upon her face; I was brought back to my
surroundings,--and all the things I had heard
about her came to me, and went crowding through
my mind.
She was not alone in the box, although she
sat apart in a corner, separated from the
other people as it seemed to me she always
was. She was leaning a bit forward with
her hands clasping her knees, her lips a
trifle apart and seeming singularly pale;
but what I noticed most was the expression
in her eyes, which had an entreaty and a
pathos in them I had never seen in any face
before,--and her mouth was strangely soft with a
look of sweetness about its corners.
She was not looking at Kreisler, but gazing out
before her as though at something we others could
not see, and I was filled with a peculiar sensation
that she understood and felt things which were remote
from other people.
Then I looked away because somehow I felt as if
I were spying at her with her mask off, and
looking upon her soul!
The violin stopped and, as the last notes vibrated
and died away and were swallowed up in the applause,
I looked at her again.
Once more the hard look was on her face and the
bitter pain in her eyes.
I saw the people she was with exchange a casual
remark with her, and then draw a little aside
and talk among themselves.
All at once a great wave of tenderness came over me,
and I longed with sudden eagerness to put my arms
about her and draw her to me. I wanted to tell
her not to be lonely and sad and bitter, because
I knew she was not all they said she was, and all
they had made her with their idle talk.
I wanted to hold her hand and tell her I understood
and sympathized with her, and that I knew she only
seemed all the things they said, simply because
no one ever kissed her.
HURT FEELINGS
You remember of course the day I acted so
queerly in your studio?
How happy we were going up the stairs, and how
we laughed and vowed it would be the most wonderful
day we had ever spent!
“The day of days,” you called it.
And do you remember how I tripped and
dropped the tea and sugar packages, and you dropped the cake in
an effort to steady me--and how we sat down on the
steps and laughed and laughed as though it was the
funniest thing in the whole wide world?
And then in the corridor you would not let me open
the door until you had kissed my hands.
But as soon as we were in the studio something
seemed to snap within me, my mood changed entirely
and I ceased to laugh; I put the packages on the table
and was very quiet.
Of course you thought I had one of my old-time
headaches, and you took out that absurd headache
cologne--which never does the slightest bit of good--
and insisted upon spraying it over me.
And you tried to make me laugh again and kissed my
neck, but in spite of the fact that you looked like
an injured little child, I stood looking out of the
window and, when you asked me what was the
matter, I merely replied “nothing.”
Then in the face of all your desperate entreaties
I left the studio, and went down the stairs out into
the street....
I am sorry now I did it and, although I
never meant to tell you the reason--now,
because it all seems so trivial, I think
I shall:
Do you remember how I stopped laughing the
instant you opened the door?
That was because I noticed at once the
little plant I gave you was placed in a
dark corner, withered and dead.
WEARINESS
No, I do not want to dance tonight,
nor talk nor play.
You think I am foolish because I
want to sit here and stare into the
night? I wonder!
You say I am lazy?
I wonder at that too. Well, no matter.
You go and dance and leave me here
alone; then when you return you will
tell me what you have accomplished by
your dancing, and if you feel any the
happier for it,--but no, do not bother--
I think I shall be too tired even to listen.
It is true you will be exercising
your legs, but I shall sit here
and travel far and wide among the stars--
and exercise my soul.
Do you know my body seems strangely
lax tonight?
I think I must be quite exhausted;
and I am sure that I could sit here
for years and years and never move
a muscle or enter into life at all again.
So tired am I.
Perhaps, if I sit here long enough,
all the generations of the future will come
and tell me their secrets because they
will know I should be far too weary
ever to repeat them.
OPPORTUNITY
It is strange how seldom people can judge
the psychological moment to reach forth
their hands and grasp what they desire.
How often does the gardener in the field of
life pick the rose before it has really
opened or just a little too late, when
it has already commenced to fade and drop
its petals,--but how divinely fortunate
is the one who plucks it just at the right
moment and, as a reward, not only has the
rose, but very often with it a tiny, glistening,
jewelled drop of dew!
We cannot say that this is merely chance,
but rather a God-like bit of intuition
that is wound about and entwined in some
souls.
Too often in our feebleness we say opportunity
makes us what we are; and we do not realize our
strength or we should say that _we_ will make
opportunity for that which we wish to be!
I feel that opportunity is something which grows
often and plentifully in the lives of some but,
like the grass beneath our feet, it is very
seldom cultivated and springs up noiselessly
and silently so that we do not notice it.
Most of us, when we wish to do something very
much or attain a great desire, expect the
moment for fulfillment to come heralded with
blasts of trumpets--and when it does not
come that way, but through an unpretentious
medium, we cannot grasp its significance;
and so we pass it by....
The wise soul is he who expects and seeks
opportunity in all places--not graspingly
or shrewdly, but silently and with great
faith; and who knows and comprehends the
law that not always must we go out to seek
it, but perhaps, while merely contemplating
the stars, will we gain force--and so it
will come to us.
Not too obviously, perhaps, but with an interior
illumination that will give us the Vision
and show us the path onward.
TIME
Time and space mean very little to me today.
I am sitting here thinking of ten years ago
and marvelling because it seems so close and so
little forgotten,--infinitely nearer than those
moments of even yesterday, which seem already remote and distant.
How strange time is!
Do you know I often fancy that old Father Time
holds in his hand some musical instrument? Maybe
a harp or a lyre--instead of a scythe as he is
always depicted--and he plays and plays and
plays ... mostly very low; and then things
that occurred only yesterday seem vague, almost
forgotten and far away.
But sometimes he sees our hearts craving to recall
vividly some face, to live over again some
moment, or to hear once more an almost forgotten
echo--and then he takes compassion upon us and
he plays madly and loudly, and suddenly, as though
in a vision, we witness departed moments; or we
see a face or hear a voice close beside us, and
so real are they, that we have but to stretch out
our hands to touch and caress them, or turn
our heads to hear the cadence of a voice rise from
out the long-dead past.
Have you noticed how vividly old people recall
their childhood?
Ah, that is because Father Time, being so old
himself, has a profound attraction for old age,
based on reciprocal qualities which he knows them
to share in common with him.
So of course he loves them best and, realizing
that he has no earthly future to offer them, he
draws down his musical instrument and plays louder
and louder--and lo! they can sit for hours at
a time, slowly rocking backward and forward, and
all the while they are living over again some
cherished moment and hearing sweet, enchanted music.
And, if you listen closely during the silent
intervals between the squeaking and rocking of
their chairs, I am sure you will hear them saying
softly to themselves as they nod their heads slowly
to and fro--
“Why, it all seems only yesterday!”
REVELATION
It seems to me that life is absolutely
futile and incomplete until we realize that
no matter what we are doing, or whither
going, it is because of some preconceived
reason; and that in the end, when we have
reached the last turning of the road and
come to lay down our wearying burdens, no
matter what our regrets through life may have
been--we will know and fully comprehend
that the tending of our footsteps this or
that way was merely the working out of a
great end.
The orientation of our views is so limited
and circumscribed that, when something comes
to us which we have not desired, we can
only feel the bearing down of a cruel fate
upon our heads. And too often we toss those
same heads back in stubborn despair and grind
our teeth in the gale of what must be--
thereby losing our balance and sense of what
_might_ be had we the courage to entwine
our strength with that of the Infinite!
Many times the inveiglement of an idea--a set
idea which perhaps we have nourished in our
hearts for days--will keep us from all
realization of the good we might gain by a
different shaping of our lives from that
which we had dreamed.
To some of us the revelation never comes;
and we go on pursuing life with our noses
pressed to the ground, without a glimmer
of comprehension of the great and superfine
machine which marks out and registers our lives.
To others, who are perhaps more worthy, the
revelation _does_ come, and usually during or
after our darkest hours.
It is indeed a proof of the Divine that we should
receive light after darkness!
To these same it is strange how sometimes
it will come slowly like the rising of the
moon, and then again quickly as a flood
of sunlight after a darkening cloud has passed.
In the sad or desperate moments of our lives
when indeed we see nothing to go on for--
when we are torn and spent and there seems
no end to the coursing of the blood from
out our hearts--it is then that the knowledge
in a flash comes to us, that there _must_
be a reason, and that we could not be made
to suffer so without an ultimate beneficial
purpose.
And so all striving seems puerile and we cease
to beat our wings against the cage, lift our
torn hearts instead to the sweet rain of
heaven and ask to see the star that may guide us.
And, as small children who, seeing not, obey,
so we too, set forth; and, although unconsciously,
in our faith become as sages.
FINDING GOD
I have been reading tonight a book on
science which, I think, tends to
kill all spiritual hope and attributes
everything to the material; taking away
our dreams of miracles, crushing
our hopes in the Beyond and
tearing down the belief of a divine
intuition within us.
It explains all these things as springing
entirely from pathological causes and
seems to feed the intellect while
it starves the Soul.
I think so much has been said in this generation
about science, so much has been questioned and
delved into about it that I cannot help
feeling that science will eventually encompass
and satiate the world--that is, if we let it
engulf us completely and turn our hearts and
souls into rocks and machines; and insist in
believing that the still silent voice within
us, which we once called God, is merely the
emotion caused by a craving for food or sleep
or air, or some other physical necessity--
which will cease when we last close these
weary eyes of ours.
It is indeed true to call this the age of science
and “The Iron Age,” for what could tend to make
men’s hearts more thoroughly iron than to tell
them to stifle and kill all their emotions and
that we are, after all, only a part of the scheme
of the Whole, and must not look forward because
there is no Beyond?
“Where there is no vision the people perish.”
So in this age when men seek and in answer
find only a golden frame--with no color
picture inside to brighten the rooms of life--
but instead cold dismal facts, perhaps then
it is well that thousands of these poor
men should be killed off and not taste the bitter
poison to the end.
And yet, is it not the irony of fate that
science again with its machine guns, its
poisoned gas and all other improved and
advanced diabolical warfare should be the
hand to slay them?
Men’s ears that can only listen to the roar
of machinery, cannot hear the song of the
birds; men’s bodies and feet that are so well
clothed, cannot feel the clay of the earth nor
the poetry of the wind and sun on their bodies;
men’s eyes that are tired straining in the
research room or the laboratory cannot see the
stars, and men’s hearts that lead themselves into
believing that from the decay of these poor
bodies there is no future, cannot see God.
And by these words I do not mean to refute
the great and everlasting good that science
has done for the world, nor do I forget the
vast progress for the benefit of humanity in
surgery, hygiene and medicine, and the advancement
toward comfort, economy of time and manual labor
which it has donated to us by the efforts and
sacrifices of wonderful and brave men.
To all those who have toiled and still have been
able to Believe, I should like to write a eulogy.
But it is to those who, in their search in science,
have lost their ideal and come to live so scientifically
that their souls, as it were, have dried up and left
only the workings of their brains--
it is from these, that I would turn my face away.
To live _really_ it is impossible to live scientifically.
We must live by the emotions to survive and find
God, because it is only by and through the emotions
that we truly palpitate and feel ... and reaching
out we extend our hands and lean far into the Vast
Space of the Infinite!
BRAINSTORM
How absurd people are! As if anyone could ever
understand anyone else! I am so tired of people
always trying to understand me, when I hold no
understanding of myself. Tonight I have no faith
and in my brain there are chaos and whirlwinds.
I have ceased to believe in God or man.
Do you remember when I used to talk to you of ideals
and truth and all such false things? That was when
I was quite mad, but tonight I am _sane_; sane and
weary of all control and pretenses. I am tired of
being polite, of talking low when I wish to shout, of
laughing when I want to cry. I am tired of convention
and going to dinners and saying “What a charming party
this is” when all the while I should like to tear the
table-cloth off and smash up the best china.
I am tired of shuffling feet, ever struggling onward
and leading nowhere. I am tired of weak vacillating
people and those who do not know real love--Love is
no love at all where for its sake one is not willing
to commit a crime. But I am also tired of loving and
of being loved--it seems to be the dark ages since
I spoke to you of love--I am tired of lies and truth--
more tired of truth since it only raises hopes and in the end fails.
How futile all these things are, how misguiding and tragically frail!
If Life only had long hair so that I might run my hand
through it and tear it from its roots! If I could
only be an earthquake and shake the very civilization
of life! Civilization, what a farce! As if there
existed any such thing. I wish I could be a hurricane
and crush down everything in my way, or a maddening
thunderstorm, with its flashes of blood and fire across the sky....
A thousand dead bodies tonight might lie in my way
and I should like to walk over them and, I wish that
Life itself were a strip of gauze so that I might tear
it asunder and throw it to the winds!
Chaotic wild thoughts are running through my brain,
but mostly darkness and a mad desire to end it all.
I am so very tired of Life, but most of all I am tired
of myself.
_Oh, My God_, let me break these chains....
I am so very tired of myself!
PEACE
It had been such a warm day. Toward sunset
do you remember how we stole away to the
beach and after driving for some time we
finally came to the dunes, got out of the
motor and walked the rest of the way?
I can remember now how white the sand was
and how our feet sank in it and, when we
drew them out again it seemed to cover our
tracks leaving hardly any impression behind us.
I remember also how the long reeds sprang up
and almost hid you from view; then we began
to climb the dunes and all out of breath
we reached the top, and there below us lay
the beach, and the ocean spreading out from
it as far as we could see.
I recall catching my breath as I always do
when I again perceive the ocean after having
been away from it. It always seems to fill
me with such inexhaustible wonder and pours
into my soul a peculiar strength and power
to go on with the dull and terrible things
of life ... forcing me to finish and, at
the end, to conquer them.
I can see now the blueness of the water and
feel again the great stillness that seemed
to be about us. Over our left shoulder
back of us lay the inlet, with the sun shining
on it and causing it to dazzle like a steel
needle; and the long thin white beach--like
a golden thread--stretching from it and
finally seeming to trail off to nothing and
burying itself in the foam of the sea.
Do you remember how we lay there for ever so
long and neither of us said a word? Finally
the sun went down and we watched the sand
change from gold to red; the sky became violet
with little shadings of green and pink and
then suddenly--as if by magic--the ocean
became quite calm and a fascinating little
star appeared reflecting and twinkling on the inlet.
Back on the main land we watched the little
lights of the houses come out one by one;
in the twilight at first they were very faint
and pale, but after as the night stooped
down and crept upon us, they grew brighter and stronger.
And then for the first time you broke the silence;
turning to me you asked, “What are you feeling?”
I answered, “Peace.”
TWILIGHT DREAMS
As I open the long windows and step out upon
the terrace, the presence of the mysterious
hour is upon me....
A strange undefined blue mist rises from the
earth and gently, like a magical veil, winds
itself around the trees and slowly rising,
presses its face against the sky as though to
peer into the eyes, and read the heart of the stars.
Fantastic trees dimly outlined, bend together
and whisper softly; suddenly I feel as though
the air were charged with all the wishes of the
world. Great and small, joyous and sad wishes,
all thrown out from the struggling desirous
heart of Life and, at twilight hour stealing
silently--some a little ashamed, some a little
proud--to nestle under the white moon--flowers
in hopes that some soul of the dead--which steal
about at twilight hour too--may be their friend
and help them to come true.
Timidly, and trembling a little from the embraces
of the mist, a tiny star shines out, while slowly
and reverently the darkness kneels down and kisses
the face of the earth.
A vast and deep silence has come over everything;
and I, with all else, find myself holding my
breath as I steal back into the room and sink into a chair.
Leaning back languidly I half close my eyes, while
far off I smell the salt and sadness of the sea....
Weirdly and ghostlike you creep in and, in my
twilight dreams, you come to me!
Transcriber’s Note:
- Text that was in italics is enclosed in underscores (_italics_).
- Text that was in small caps is in all caps (SMALL CAPS).
- Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
- Spelling was retained as in the original except for the following
changes:
Page 11: “by the same upsparing” to “by the same unsparing”
Page 16: “my heart with ice boned” to “my heart with ice-boned”
Page 36: “to live so scentifically” to “to live so scientifically”
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOODS ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will
be renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
States without permission and without paying copyright
royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part
of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project
Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™
concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,
and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following
the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use
of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for
copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very
easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project
Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may
do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected
by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark
license, especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full
Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at
www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or
destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your
possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a
Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound
by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person
or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this
agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg
electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the
Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual
works in the collection are in the public domain in the United
States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the
United States and you are located in the United States, we do not
claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as
all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope
that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting
free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg
works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the
Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily
comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when
you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are
in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,
check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this
agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,
distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any
other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no
representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any
country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other
immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear
prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work
on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed,
performed, viewed, copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws
of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is
derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not
contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the
copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in
the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or
obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg
trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any
additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms
will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works
posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the
beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format
other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official
version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website
(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the
full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works
provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed
to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has
agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid
within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are
legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty
payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in
Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™
License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all
copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue
all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™
works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of
any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than
are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing
from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of
the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project
Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate
or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or
other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or
cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right
of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium
with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in
lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person
or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second
opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO
OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of
damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement
violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the
agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or
limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or
unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in
accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the
production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™
electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,
including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of
the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this
or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or
additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any
Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg
Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of
computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It
exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations
from people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future
generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by
U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website
and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To
donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project
Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be
freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and
distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of
volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in
the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not
necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper
edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search
facility: www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
