Max Flux

WINIFRED WELLES
The HESITANT HEART
NEW YORK: B. W. HUEBSCH, PUBLISHER



"Climb"

My shoes fall on the house-top that is so far beneath me,
I have hung my hat forever on the sharp church spire,

Now what shall seem the hill but a moment of surmounting,
The height but a place to dream of something higher!

Wings? Oh not for me, I need no other pinions
Than the beating of my heart within my breast;

Wings are for the dreamer with a bird-like longing,
Whose dreams come home at eventide to nest.

The timid folk beseech me, the wise ones warn me,
They say that I shall never grow to stand so high ;
But I climb among the hills of cloud and follow vanished
lightning,

I shall stand knee-deep in thunder with my head against
the sky.

Tiptoe, at last, upon a pinnacle of sunset,
I shall greet the death-like evening with laughter from
afar,

Nor tremble in the darkness nor shun the windy midnight,
For by the evening I shall be a star.

"...The timid folk beseech me, the wise ones warn me,

They say that I shall never grow to stand so high ;
But I climb among the hills of cloud and follow vanished

lightning,

I shall stand knee-deep in thunder with my head against
the sky...."

-Winifred Welles

*****Oh, how I shall miss you, Glitch!!******

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May all your future projects be worthy of your considerable talents.
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