Monday, April 4, 2022



Remembering Vaughan in New England

I saw reality the other night,

By New England moon-light.

All of my life, living has been

One or another kind of dream.

Now, nothing festooned itself between

Me, and the substance of moon-beam.

The land is honest, small and swept

Bare as a barn-yard floor

In winter. And no third thing crept

As it had, times before.

No feeling, its mist to intervene,

No inner thought to warp . . .

I stood: and behold, the trees were lean,

And lo ! the hills were sharp.

Moon's no ephemeral faint stuff

First seen, painted upon

Windows and walls . . . it is yellow as dawn,

After dream, it is marvelous rough,

Coarse as hoar-frost . . . texture no dream

Can invent.

                     Cut my vague dream away !

Moon in New England, O pure moon-beam,

Let it be day.


Genevieve Taggard

Remembering Vaughn in New England

Arrow Editions, 1933