This is a book of stories. For that reason I have excluded
all purely lyrical poems. But the word "stories" has been stretched
to its fullest application. It includes both narrative poems,
properly so called; tales divided into scenes; and a few pieces
of less obvious story-telling imp ...
A drifting, April, twilight sky,
A wind which blew the puddles dry,
And slapped the river into waves
That ran and hid among the staves
Of an old wharf. A watery light
Touched bleak the granite bridge, and white
Without the slightest tinge of gold,
The city shivered ...