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Page 23
Paris, 1919
IX
Two Kings there were, one Good, one Bad;
The first was mournfulness itself,
The second, happy as a lad,--
And both are dust upon a shelf.
Sheffield, 1917
X
I see that Hermes unawares,
Has left his footprints on the path;
See here, he fell, and in his wrath
He pulled out several golden hairs
Against the brambles. Guard them well,
The hairs of gods are valuable.
Paris, 1919
XI
Semiramis, the whore of Babylon,
Bade me go walking with her. I obeyed.
Philosophy, I thought, is not afraid
Of any woman underneath the sun.
Far up the hills she led me, where one ledge
Thrust out a slender finger to the sky,
Dizzy and swaying as an eagle's cry;
Semiramis stepped to the farthest edge.
And there she danced, whirling upon her toes,
The triumph of a flame was in her face,
Faster and faster as the mad wind blows,
She whirled, and slipped, and dashed down into space....
Next day I saw her smiling in the sun,
Semiramis, the Queen of Babylon.
Paris, 1919
XII
Bring hemlock, black as Cretan cheese,
And mix a sacramental brew;
A worthy drink for Socrates,
Why not for you?
Sheffield, 1917
XIII
Walking through the town last night,
I learned the lore of second sight,
And saw through all those solid walls,
Imbecile and troglodyte.
The vicious apes of either sex
Grinned and mouthed and stretched their necks,
Their little lusts skipped back and forth,
Not very pretty or complex.
Each has five senses; every sense
Is like a false gate in a fence,
They think the gates are bona fide,
Such is their only innocence.
And think themselves extremely wise
When any sense records its lies,
They mumble what they feel or hear,
Unmindful still of Paradise.
When I walked through the town last night
In vain they drew their curtains tight,
Through walls of brick I plainly saw
The imbecile, the troglodyte.
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