The Poet Reads - A poem by Nora B. Cunningham

The Poet Reads.

Some day . . . I shall hear your voice
Moving among dark, richly-colored words
Like wind that slowly stirs the dark broad leaves
Of corn . . .

I shall forget
The clamor and the crying of the world
In some still place, with peace before my eyes,
And in my ears the music of your voice . . .

Oh, for a space there will be loveliness
And quietness and music in the midst
Of mirthless laughter, cruelty and death!
. . . Star-sprinkled skies at dawn . . . the tender light
That lingers on still waters after dusk . . .
Wide desert stretches golden in the sun . . .
Your voice! . . .

Then suddenly
The music dies, the golden light goes out,
And peace is fled . . .
Our swiftly-meeting eyes
Cry out against our futile, courteous lips,
Seeking for something lost . . . or never found . . .
Unmeaning clamor closes round again.

^__Nora B. Cunningham

Contemporary Kansas Poetry
Helen Rhoda Hoopes
page 40
(Kansas City: Joseph D. Havens Company. 1927)