William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.

The House at Evening

ACROSS the school-ground it would start

To light my eyes, that yellow gleam—

The window of the flaming heart,

The chimney of the tossing dream.

The scuffed and wooden porch of Heaven,

The voice that came like a caress,

The warm kind hands that once were given

My carelessness.

It was a house you would not think

Could hold such sacraments in things

Or give the wild heart meat and drink

Or give the stormy soul high wings

Or chime small voices to such mirth

Or crown the night with stars and flowers

Or make upon this quaking earth

Such steady hours.

Yet, that in storm it stood secure,

And in the cold was warm with love,

Shall its similitude endure

Past trophies that men weary of,

Where two were out of fortune’s reach,

Building great empires round a name

And ushering into casual speech

Dim worlds aflame.

The Yale Review