Poem by Madison Julius Cawein

The Quarrel

Could I divine how her gray eyes
Gat such cold haughtiness of skies;

How, some wood-flower's shadow brown,
Dimmed her fair forehead's wrath a frown;

How, rippled sunshine blown thro' air,
Tossed scorn her eloquence of hair;

How to a folded bud again
She drew her blossomed lips' disdain;

Naught deigning save eyes' utterance,
Star-words, which quicker reach the sense;

Then, afterwards, how melted there
The austere woman to one tear;

Then were I wise to know how grew
This star-stained miracle of blue,
How God makes wild flowers out of dew.

1. Dawn in the Alleghanies
2. Solstice
3. Romance (Oh, go not to the lonely hill)
4. Hymn to Spiritual Desire
5. Drouth in Autumn

Katherine Mansfield The Quarrel ("Our quarrel seemed a giant thing")

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