A Woman of Thirty Part 10

I turned to meet your eyes And saw Like a light, rosy veil Your flesh sink gently down Leaving only the simple skeleton And a white voice which said: "This still is I, Do you love me Now?"

Quietly, and without sadness I looked upon you, For comfort blindly reached my soul And primitive beauty.

Without pa.s.sion, without fervour, I spoke at last: "Somehow Faith s.h.i.+nes from your empty eye-holes, And Truth Speaks mutely from your fleshless jaws.

I choose your skeleton to lie with In the peaceful bed of earth Through all the dreamless, mornless, utter night!"

Poems of Elijah Hay

The Golden Stag

O hungry hearted ones, sharp-limbed, keen-eyed, Let me have place!

I too would ride On your fantastic chase.

Your hunger is a silver hunting horn, I heard it sweep The frozen, peaceful morn: Its note bit me from sleep.

I will ride with you, hunters, even I, Toward a far hill To see the golden stag against the sky Uncaptured still.

To Anne Knish

Madam, you intrigue me!

I have come this far Cautiously sneezing Along the dusty highroad of convention, But now it leads no farther toward you.

Today I have reached the cross roads-- A weather-beaten sign-board Blazons undecipherable wisdom Of which the arrow-heads, even, Have been effaced.

Eastward, it leads through cultivated fields Of intellectual fodder, Where well-fed cattle, herding together, Browse content: Are you of these?

Westward, is a lane, hedge-bordered, Shady, and of gentle indirection, In May, a bower of sentimental bloom, But this November weather Betrays its destiny, the poultry yard Where geese foregather.

And there ahead, the ancient, swampy way Modernized by a feeble plank or two: But the mora.s.s of pa.s.sion lures me not!

I see a vision of two plunging feet, Discreetly shod, yet struggling in vain-- Slime Creeps ankle-high, knee-high, thigh-high, Till all is swallowed save a brave silk hat Floating alone, a symbol of the creed I perished shedding.

Yet somewhere you Intelligent of my distress Smile, undisturbed-- I have no pedlar's license to submit, No wares to cry, nor any gift to bring-- I do not know Anything new-- In truth, then, what have I to do with you?

Yet, madam, you intrigue me!

Lolita

How curious to find in you, Lolita, The geisha Who sits and strums in the immortal Att.i.tude of submission.

There is a ledger in place of her soul!

Your shoulders sang For admiration, Your hair wept for kisses, Your voice curved softly, a caress-- You came among us as a suppliant, What had we you desired?

Bringing to market stolen goods, Holding to view used charms, Behold a hawker's spirit!

Eagles perch proudly In isolation, They swoop to seize a living prey-- Crows hover to feed, Waiting with patience till the soul is fled Leaving a helpless body--carrion-- (Vile thoughts obsess me!)

What did you want, Lolita?

Spectrum of Mrs. Q.

Fear not, beautiful lady, That I shall ravish you!

Your arms are languorous lilies-- There is not a thorn In all your slender greenness, And you are sweet to madden buzzing bees!

Fear not, beautiful lady, A hard, black cricket Inspects you.

Epitaph

Courage is a sword, Honour, but a s.h.i.+eld...

Here lies a turtle.

A Sixpence

OBVERSE

If I loved you, You would rear Eight healthy children To our love, (Forgetting me) And be happy.

REVERSE

But I do not love you, So you will write Eight hundred poems To our love, (Forgetting me) And be happy!

Three Spectra

Of Mrs. X.

You-- Too well fed for rebellion, Too lazy for self-respect, too timid for murder, Disgracefully steal the trade-mark of the fairy-tale-- "And they lived together happily Ever after!"

Of Mrs. Z.

Madam, you are ever retreating, But are never Gone-- Some day I shall pursue you Hoping to see you Vanish.

Of Mrs. Andsoforth.

Old ladies, bless their hearts, Are contented as house-flies Dozing against the wall.

But you, Imprisoned in the forties, Delirious, frenzied, helpless, Are a fly, drowning in a c.o.c.ktail!

Two Commentaries

I. TO AN ACTOR

You are a gilded card-case Which I took for a purse.

Your spirit's coin was squandered long ago, And in its place Are white cards, all alike, Bearing a word, A name, Connoting nothing.