MOTOR AT MIDNIGHT

The horn of a motor racing Time

Lifted a clear exultant note,

Strength is good, and speed is good,"

It sang with a bugle-metal threat.

And the house-tops thronged with men, I thought,

Who heard this prelude-note of praise,

And hymned the new, the clean, the hare,

A "Come ye" of these later days.

SHIP IN THE NIGHT

Joe shouted and the fat first mate

Ran forwards That great loom of sail

Came up out of the fog and passed them by,

And would not answer to their hail.

No sound, no lanterns fore, nor aft;

The first mate said, "Now what the hell."

And looked at Joe, who stared at him,

And choked on the two words, "All's well."

DOWNTOWN RITUAL

The airplane up too high to be heard

Certainly could not hear

That citizen's one half-humorous word

That I could, being near,

But if every man who was up and out

Had waved his paper so,

The man on high would have heard their shout,

Their thousand-fold ,"Hullo!"