Brearley School - Brearley Book Yearbook (New York, NY)

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TWO SON N ETS I Spring walks along the streets unheralded, Only across the hardness of a wall, Where lately winter stiffened and lay dead, The thin pale Hakes of yellow sunlight fall. No flourishings of petals on the air Or smells of wakened earth to tell her way, Without a single fiower for her hair Spring walks along the city streets today. Now where two rows of houses turn and meet, The sky is clean and blue, and all around Faces lean from the windows. People's feet Go down the pavement with a happier sound And clothes hung out upon the roofs to dry Are bright and fluttering blossoms on the sky. II The flattened rain gleams from the streets tonight, It is a hesitant and quiet thing, Stepping with footsteps lingering and light, The thin and sorrowful raining of the spring Across the lamp-light, fine and delicate As any veil of gossamer and lace, The split drops shimmer, warm and intimate Its dripping fingers trail across your face. The night rain is a friend to walls and stone And hisses on the pavement gratefully, Whispering in a pattering monotone Of little waters running to the sea And fresh-turned earth, and in its wetness lies A sense of dripping fields and open skies. MARGARET Kmnrn Poeiry Prize 1931 I56l'

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SPENSERIAN STANZAS A-downe the river banke the boates ' chugge, Y-passing ever uppe and downe they go, The loathlie garbage barge and swinking tugge, Some moving swiftlie, others e'en more slow, And al the while the river stronge doth flow. Oftimes the fogge outside the wall is rent By steamer looming bigge, anon a low And lonlie cry up-from its funnelles sent Shrieks loudlie through the fogge its wilde and sad lament. Then cometh eek a straunge and cleadlie sound As dying rattle from a dragon's maw That maddened sinks from many a bloudie wound, Y-covered with his blacke and stinking gore. The faireste youths that sleepe their bookes o'er Rise uppe y-white of face and deadlie pale. What might this mean, this clamour which before E'en do the very lords and sages quaile, That rattleth al about like deadlie storm of haile? And when bright Phoebus settleth in the west, And murkie blacknesse cloudeth every streete, Forth from the walls each gorged and haggarcl guest Doth go, with mental nourishmente replete, And each into the dimnesse doth retreate, And fadeth full right willingly away, But still the river murmureth at the feete Of those blacke walls and danke, as if to say, E'en let the prisoners free. Tomorrow comes another day. WWC realize that the spelling of this word is Chaucerian. NFO: the benefit of Miss Carey and the very young, the deadlie sound is the riveting which went on across the way in 1930. l58l