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
Cut my vague dream away !
Moon in New England, O pure moon-beam,
Let it be day.
Remembering Vaughn in New England
Arrow Editions, 1933