XVII


Simple like all dream-wishes, they employ
The elementary rhythyms of the heart,
Speak to our muscles of a need for joy:
The dying and the lovers bound to part

Hear them and have to whistle. Ever new,
They mirror every change in our position,
They are our evidence of how we do,
The very echo of our lost condition.

Think in this year what pleased the dancers best,
When Austria died, when China was forsaken,
Shanghai in flames and Teruel re-taken.

France put her case before the world: Partout
Il y a de la joie. America addressed
Mankind: Do you love me as I love you?