The Picnic

By Marjorie Allen Seiffert

Here they come, in pairs, carrying baskets,

Pale clerks with brilliant neckties, and cheap serge suits,

Steering girls by the arm, clerks, too,

Pretty and slim and smart,

Even to yellow kid boots, laced up behind.

They take the electric cars far into the country,

They descend, gaily chattering, at the Amusement Park.

Under the trees they eat the lunch they have carried —

Salad, sausages, sandwiches, candy, warm beer.

They ride in the roller-coaster, two in a seat,

( Glorious danger! Warm, delicious proximity! )

The unaccustomed beer floods their veins like heady wine,

And smothered youth awakens with shrill screams of joy.

The sun sets, and evening is drowned in electric lights;

Arm-in-arm, they wander under the trees

Everywhere meeting others, wandering arm-in-arm

In the same wistful wonder, seeking they know not what.

Two leave the park and the crowds — The stars shine out,

A river runs at their feet, behind them, a leafy copse,

Away on the other shore, the fields of grain

Lie sleeping peacefully in the starlight.

Tonight the world is theirs, a legacy

From those who lived familiar friends with river, field and forest —

Their forebears.

Through the night, the same earth-magic moves them

Which swayed those ancient ones, long-dead —

And these, too, lean and drink,

Drink deeply from the river, the flowing river of life.

Slowly they return to the crowds and the brilliant lights,

Dazzled, they look aside, silently climb on the cars.

They cling to the swaying straps, weary, inert, confused.

The lurching ear makes halt — they are thrown in each others’ arms —

Alien and unmoved, they sway apart again —

The car moves through the fields and suburbs back to the town.

They leave the car in pairs, the picnic basket's

Rattling dismally, plate and spoon and jar.

The boy takes his girl to her lodgings in awkward silence.

They look askance — “Good-night!” — the front door closes,

Indeed their eyes have not met, since by the river

Those wondrous moments

Linked them to earth and night, not to each other.