No More Learning

We carry singing girls, drift with the drifting water,
Yet Sennin needs
A yellow stork for a charger, and all our seamen Would follow the white gulls or ride them.
Kutsu's prose song
Hangs with the sun and moon.
King So's terraced palace
is now but a barren hill,
But I draw pen on this barge
Causing the five peaks to tremble, And I have joy in these words
like the joy of blue islands. (If glorv could last forever
78
? each other, and listen,
"
Kwan, Kuan," the feel of it.
for the and early wind,
Crying
THE RIVER SONG
Then the waters of Han would flow northward. )
And I have moped in the Emperor's garden, awaiting an order-to-write !
I looked at the dragon-pond, with its willow- coloured water
Just reflecting the sky's tinge,
And heard the five-score nightingales aimlessly
singing.
The eastern wind brings the green colour into the
island grasses at Yei-shu,
The purple house and the crimson are full of
Spring softness.
South of the pond the willow-tips are half-blue
and bluer,
Their cords tangle in mist, against the brocade-
like palace.
Vine-strings a hundred feet long hang down from
carved railings,
And high over the willows, the fine birds sing to
The wind bundles itself into a bluish cloud and wanders off.
Over a thousand gates, over a thousand doors are
the sounds of spring singing, And the Emperor is at Ko.
Five clouds hang aloft, bright on the purple sky, "
79 G2
? THE RIVER SONG
The imperial guards come forth from the golden house with their armour a-gl earning.
The Emperor in his jewelled car goes out to inspect his flowers,
He goes out to Hori, to look at the wing-flapping storks,
He returns by way of Sei rock, to hear the new
nightingales,
For the gardens at Jo-run are full of new nightin-
gales,
Their sound is mixed in this flute,
Their voice is in the twelve pipes here.
8th century A. D.
80
By RihaJcu.
? The River-Merchant's Wife: a Letter
WHILE my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
I played about the front gate, pulling flowers
You came by on bamboo stilts, playing horse, You walked about my seat, playing with blue
plums.
And we went on living in the village of Chokan : Two small people, without dislike or suspicion.
At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.
At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever, and forever. Why should I climb the look out ?
At sixteen you departed,
You went into far Ku-to-Yen, by the river of
swirling eddies,
81
? THE RIVER MERCHANT'S WIFE
And you have been gone five months.
The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead. You dragged your feet when you went out.
By the gate now, the moss is grown, the different
mosses,
Too deep to clear them away !
The leaves fall early this autumn, in wind.
The paired butterflies are already yellow with
August
Over the grass in the West garden,
They hurt me.
I grow older,
If you are coming down through the narrows of
the river Kiang,
Please let me know beforehand, And I will come out to meet you,
As far as Cho-fu-Sa.
82
By Rihaku.
? The Jewel Stairs' Grievance
THE jewelled steps are already quite white with dew,
It is so late that the dew soaks
stockings,
And I let down the crystal curtain
my gauze
And watch the moon through the clear autumn. By Eihaku.
NOTE. Jewel stairs, therefore a palace. Grievance, there-
fore there is something to complain of. Gauze stockings, there- fore a court lady, not a servant who complains. Clear autumn,
thereforehehasnoexcuseonaccountofweather. Alsoshehas come early, for the dew has not merely whitened the stairs, but
has soaked her stockings. The poem is especially prized because she utters no direct reproach.
83
? Poem by the Bridge at Ten-Shin
MARCH has come to the bridge head.
Peach boughs and apricot boughs hang over a thousand gates,
At morning there are flowers to cut the heart,
And evening drives them on the eastward-flowing waters.
Petals are on the gone waters and on the going,
And on the back-swirling eddies,
But to-day's men are not the men of the old days,
Though they hang in the same way over the bridge-rail.
The sea's colour moves at the dawn
And the princes still stand in rows, about the
throne,
And the moon falls over the portals of Sei-go-yo, And clings to the walls and the gate-top.
With head gear glittering against the cloud and sun,
The lords go forth from the court, and into far borders.
84
? POEM BY THE BRIDGE AT TEN-SHIN
They ride upon dragon-like horses,
Upon horses with head-trappings of yellow metal, And the streets make way for their passage.
Haughty their passing,
Haughty their steps as they go into great
banquets,
To high halls and curious food,
To the perfumed air and girls dancing, To clear flutes and clear singing ;
To the dance of the seventy couples ; To the mad chase through the gardens.
Night and day are given over to pleasure
And they think it will last a thousand autumns,
Unwearying autumns.
For them the yellow dogs howl portents in vain, And what are they compared to the lady
Riokushu,
That was cause of hate !
Who among them is a man like Han-rei
Who departed alone with his mistress, With her hair unbound, and he his own skiffs-
man!
85
By RihaJcu.
? Lament of the Frontier Guard
BY the North Gate, the wind blows full of sand,
Lonely from the beginning of time until now !
Trees fall, the grass goes yellow with autumn. I climb the towers and towers
to watch out the barbarous land :
Desolate castle, the sky, the wide desert.
There is no wall left to this village.
Bones white with a thousand frosts,
High heaps, covered with trees and grass ;
Who brought this to pass ?
Who has brought the flaming imperial anger ? Who has brought the army with drums and with
kettle-drums ?
Barbarous kings.
A gracious spring, turned to blood-ravenous
autumn,
A turmoil of wars-men, spread over the middle
kingdom,
Three hundred and sixty thousand,
And sorrow, sorrow like rain.
Sorrow to go, and sorrow, sorrow returning, 86
? LAMENT OF THE FRONTIER GUARD
Desolate, desolate fields,
And no children of warfare upon them,
No longer the men for offence and defence. Ah, how shall you know the dreary sorrow at the
North Gate,
With Rihoku's name forgotten,
And we guardsmen fed to the tigers.
87
By EiJiaku.
? Exile's Letter
To So-Kin of Rakuyo, ancient friend, Chancellor of Gen.
Now I remember that you built me a special tavern By the south side of the bridge at Ten-Shin.
With yellow gold and white jewels, we paid for
songs and laughter
And we were drunk for month on month, forgetting
the kings and princes.
Intelligent men came drifting in from the sea and
from the west border,
And with them, and with you especially There was nothing at cross purpose,
And they made nothing of sea-crossing or of mountain crossing,
If only they could be of that fellowship,
And we all spoke out our hearts and minds, and
without regret.
And then I was sent off to South Wei, smothered in laurel groves,
And you to the north of Raku-hoku,
Till we had nothing but thoughts and memories in common.
88
? more Sennin music, Many instruments,
like the sound of young
EXILE'S LETTER
And then, when separation had come to its
worst,
We met, and travelled into Sen-Go,
Through all the thirty-six folds of the turning and twisting waters,
Into a valley of the thousand bright flowers, That was the first valley ;
And into ten thousand valleys full of voices and
pine-winds.
And with silver harness and reins of gold,
Out come the East of Kan foreman and his
company.
And there came also the " True man " of Shi-yo
to meet me,
Playing on a jewelled mouth-organ.
In the storied houses of San-Ko they gave us
phoenix broods.
The foreman of Kan Chu, drunk, danced
because his long sleeves wouldn't keep still
With that music playing.
And I, wrapped in brocade, went to sleep with my head on his lap,
And my spirit so high it was all over the
heavens,
And before the end of the day we were scattered
like stars, or rain.
89
? EXILE'S LETTER
I had to be off to So, far away over the waters, You back to your river-bridge.
And your father, who was brave as a leopard, Was governor in Hei Shu, and put down the
barbarian rabble.
And one May he had you send for me,
despite the long distance.
And what with broken wheels and so on, I won't
say it wasn't hard going,
Over roads twisted like sheep's guts. And I was still going, late in the year,
in the cutting wind from the North,
And thinking how little you cared for the
cost,
and you caring enough to pay it.
And what a reception :
Red jade cups, food well set on a blue jewelled
table,
And I was drunk, and had no thought of
returning.
And you would walk out with me to the western
corner of the castle,
To the dynastic temple, with water about it clear
as blue jade,
With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-
organs and drums,
With ripples like dragon-scales, going grass green on the water,
90
? EXILE'S LETTER
Pleasure lasting, with courtezans, going and com-
ing without hindrance,
With the willow flakes falling like snow,
And the vermilioned girls getting drunk about
sunset,
And the water a hundred feet deep reflecting
green eyebrows
Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight,
Gracefully painted
And the girls singing back at each other,
Dancing in transparent brocade,
And the wind lifting the song, and inter-
rupting it,
Tossing it up under the clouds.
And all this comes to an end.
And is not again to be met with.
I went up to the court for examination,
Tried Layu's luck, offered the Choyo song,
And got no promotion,
and went back to the East Mountains
white-headed.
And once again, later, we met at the South
bridge-head.
And then the crowd broke up, you went north to
San palace,
And if you ask how I regret that parting :
It is like the flowers falling at Spring's end
Confused, whirled in a tangle. 91
? EXILE'S LETTER
What is the use of talking, and there is no end of
talking,
There is no end of things in the heart.
I call in the boy,
Have him sit on his knees here
To seal this,
And send it a thousand miles, thinking.
92
By Eihaku.
? From Bihaku
FOUR POEMS OF DEPARTURE
Light rain is on the light dust The willows of the inn-yard
Will be going greener and greener,
But you, Sir, had better take wine ere your departure. For you will have no friends about you
When you come to the gates of Go.
Separation on the River Kiang
KO-JIN goes west from Ko-kaku-ro,
The smoke-flowers are blurred over the rivej. His lone sail blots the far sky.
And now I see only the river,
The long Kiang, reaching heaven.
Taking Leave of a Friend
BLUE mountains to the north of the walls, White river winding about them ;
Here we must make separation
93 H
? FOUR POEMS OF DEPARTURE
And go out through a thousand miles of dead
grass.
Mind like a floating wide cloud.
Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.
Our horses neigh to each other as we are departing.
Leave-taking near Shoku
"
THEY say the roads of Sanso are steep, Sheer as the mountains.
The walls rise in a man's face,
Clouds grow out of the hill
at his horse's bridle.
Sweet trees are on the paved way of the Shin, Their trunks burst through the paving,
And freshets are bursting their ice
in the midst of Shoku, a proud city.
Men's fates are already set,
There is no need of asking diviners.
94
Sanso, King of Shoku, built roads. '
? FOUR POEMS OF DEPARTURE
The City of Choan
THE phoenix are at play on their terrace.
The phoenix are gone, the river flows on alone. Flowers and grass
Cover over the dark path
where lay the dynastic house of the Go. The bright cloths and bright caps of Shin
Are now the base of old hills.
The Three Mountains fall through the far heaven, The isle of White Heron
splits the two streams apart. Now the high clouds cover the sun
And I can not see Choan afar And I am sad.
95 H2
? South-Folk in Cold Country
THE Dai horse neighs against the bleak wind of
Etsu,
The birds of Etsu have no love for En, in the
north,
Emotion is born out of habit.
Yesterday we went out of the Wild-Goose gate,
To-day from the Dragon-Pen. *
Desert turmoil. Sea sun. Flying snow bewilders the barbarian heaven.
Lice swarm like ants over our accoutrements. Mind and spirit drive on the feathery banners. Hard fight gets no reward.
Loyalty is hard to explain.
Who will be sorry for General Rishogu,
the swift moving,
Whose white head is lost for this province ?
Surprised.
*
the other, now east, now west, on each border.
I. e. , we have been warring from one end of the empire to
96
? Sennin Poem by Kakuhaku
THE red and green kingfishers
flash between the orchids and clover,
One bird casts its gleam on another.
Green vines hang through the high forest, They weave a whole roof to the mountain, The lone man sits with shut speech,
He purrs and pats the clear strings.
He throws his heart up through the sky, He bites through the flower pistil
and brings up a fine fountain.
The red-pine-tree god looks on him and wonders. He rides through the purple smoke to visit the
sennin,
He takes " Hill " * the Floating by sleeve,
He claps his hand on the back of the great water sennin.
But you, you dam'd crowd of gnats, Can you even tell the age of a turtle ?
* Name of a sennin.
97
? A Ballad of the Mulberry Road (Fenollosa MSS. , very early. )
THE sun rises in south east corner of things To look on the tall house of the Shin
For they have a daughter named Rafu,
(pretty girl)
She made the name for herself
" Gauze Veil," For she feeds mulberries to silkworms,
She gets them by the south wall of the town.
With green strings she makes the warp of her
basket,
She makes the shoulder-straps of her basket
from the boughs of Katsura,
And she piles her hair up on the left side of her
head-piece.
Her earrings are made of pearl,
Her underskirt is of green pattern-silk,
Her overskirt is the same silk dyed in purple,
And when men going by look on Rafu
They set down their burdens, They stand and twirl their moustaches.
98
:
? Old Idea of Choan by Rosoriu
I.
THE narrow streets cut into the wide highway at
Choan,
Dark oxen, white horses,
drag on the seven coaches with outriders. The coaches are perfumed wood,
The jewelled chair is held up at the crossway, Before the royal lodge
a glitter of golden saddles, awaiting the
princess,
They eddy before the gate of the barons.
The canopy embroidered with dragons drinks in and casts back the sun.
Evening comes.
The trappings are bordered with mist.
The hundred cords of mist are spread through and double the trees,
Night birds, and night women,
spread out their sounds through the
gardens.
99
? OLD IDEA OF CHOAN BY ROSORIU
II.
Birds with flowery wing, hovering butterflies crowd over the thousand gates,
Trees that glitter like jade,
terraces tinged with silver,
The seed of a myriad hues,
A net-work of arbours and passages and covered
ways,
Double towers, winged roofs,
border the net-work of ways :
A place of felicitous meeting. Kiu's house stands out on the sky,
with glitter of colour
As Butei of Kan had made the high golden lotus
to gather his dews,
Before it another house which I do not know : How shall we know all the friends
whom we meet on strange roadways ?
100
? To-Em-Mei's "The Unmoving Cloud"
" Wet springtime," says To-em-mei,
" Wet spring in the garden. "
I.
THE clouds have gathered, and gathered, and the rain falls and falls,
The eight ply of the heavens
are all folded into one darkness,
And the wide, flat road stretches out.
I stop in my room toward the East, quiet, quiet, I pat my new cask of wine.
My friends are estranged, or far distant, I bow my head and stand still.
II
Rain, rain, and the clouds have gathered, The eight ply of the heavens are darkness, The flat land is turned into river.
" Wine, wine, here is wine "
!
I drink by my eastern window.
I think of talking and man,
And no boat, no carriage, approaches.
101
? TO-EM-MEI'S " THE UNMOVING CLOUD "
III
The trees in my east-looking garden
are bursting out with new twigs,
They try to stir new affection,
And men say the sun and moon keep on moving because they can't find a soft seat.
The birds flutter to rest in my tree,
and I think I have heard them saying,
" It is not that there are no other men But we like this fellow the best,
But however we long to speak
He can not know of our sorrow. "
END OF CATHAY
102
T'ao Yuan Ming. A. D. 365-427.
? Near Perigord
A Perigord, pres del muralh
Tan que i puosch 'om gitcur ab malh.
YOU'D have men's hearts up from the dust And tell their secrets, Messire Cino,
Eight enough ? Then read between the lines
of Uc St. Cire,
Solve me the riddle, for you know the tale.
Bertrans, En Bertrans, left a fine canzone :
66
I love have turned me out. you, you
Maent,
The voice at Montfort, Lady Agnes' hair, Bel Miral's stature, the vicountess' throat,
Set all together, are not worthy of you. . . " And all the while you sing out that canzone,
Think you that Maent lived at Montaignac, One at Chalais, another at Malemort HardoverBrive foreveryladyacastle,
Each place strong.
Oh, is it easy enough ? Tairiran held hall in Montaignac,
103
? NEAR PERIGORD
His brother-in-law was all there was of power In Perigord, and this good union
Gobbled all the land, and held it later
for some hundreds years. And our En Bertrans was in Altafort,
Hub of the wheel, the stirrer-up of strife,
As caught by Dante in the last wallow of hell
The headless trunk " that made its head a lamp. "
For separation wrought out separation,
And he who set the strife between brother and
brother
And had his way with the old English king,
Viced in such torture for the "
counterpass.
"
How would you live, with neighbours set about
you
Poictiers and Brive, untaken Rochechouart, Spread like the finger-tips of one frail hand ;
And you on that great mountain of a palm
Not a neat ledge, not Foix between its streams, But one huge back half-covered up with pine, Worked for and snatched from the string-purse of
Born
The four round towers, four brothers mostly
fools :
What could he do but play the desperate chess, And stir old grudges ?
" Pawn your castles, lords ! Let the Jews pay. "
104
? NEAR PERIGORD
And the great scene
(That, maybe, never happened ! ) Beaten at last,
Before the hard old king :
" Your son, ah, since he died
My wit and worth are cobwebs brushed aside In the full flare of grief. Do what you will. "
Take the whole man, and ravel out the story. He loved this lady in castle Montaignac ? Thecastleflankedhim hehadneedofit.
You read to-day, how long the overlords of
Perigord,
The Talleyrands, have held the place, it was no
transient fiction.
And Maent failed him ? Or saw through the
scheme ?
And all his net-like thought of new alliance ? Chalais is high, a-level with the poplars.
Its lowest stones just meet the valley tips
Where the low Dronne is filled with water-lilies. And Rochecouart can match it, stronger yet,
The very spur's end, built on sheerest cliff,
And Malemort keeps its close hold on Brive, While Born his own close purse, his rabbit warren, His subterranean chamber with a dozen doors, A-bristle with antennae to feel roads,
To sniff the traffic into Perigord. 105
? NEAR PERIGORD
And that hard phalanx, that unbroken line,
The ten good miles from thence to Maent's castle, Allofhisflank howcouldhedowithouther? And all the road to Cahors, to Toulouse ?
What would he do without her ?
" Papiol,
Goforthrightsinging Anhes,Cembelins. Thereisathroat; ah,therearetwowhitehands; There is a trellis full of early roses,
And all my heart is bound about with love. Where am I come with compound flatteries
"
Take his own speech, make what you will of it And still the knot, the first knot, of Maent ?
Isitalovepoem? Didhesingofwar? Is it an intrigue to run subtly out,
Born of a jongleur's tongue, freely to pass Up and about and in and out the land,
Mark him a craftsman and a strategist ? (St. Leider had done as much at Polhonac,
Singing a different stave, as closely hidden. )
Oh, there is precedent, legal tradition,
To sing one thing when your song means another,
106
What doors are open to fine compliment ? And every one half jealous of Maent ?
He wrote the catch to pit their jealousies
Against her, give her pride in them ?
? '
"
NEAR PERIGORD
Et alUrar ab lor bordon
Foix' count knew that. What is Sir Bertrans'
singing ?
Maent, Maent, and yet again Maent,
Or war and broken heaumes and politics ?
II
End fact. Try fiction, Let us say we see
En Bertrans, a tower-room at Hautefort,
Sunset, the ribbon-like road lies, in red cross-light, South toward Montaignac, and he bends at a
table
Scribbling, swearing between his teeth, by his left hand
Lie little strips of parchment covered over, Scratched and erased with al and ochaisos.
Testing his list of rhymes, a lean man ? Bilious ? With a red straggling beard ?
And the green cat's-eye lifts toward Montaignac.
Or take his "magnet" singer setting out,
Dodging his way past Aubeterre, singing at Chalais
In the vaulted hall,
Or, by a lichened tree at Rochecouart
Aimlessly watching a hawk above the valleys, Waiting his turn in the mid-summer evening,
107
? NEAR PERIGORD
Thinking of Aelis, whom he loved heart and soul. . .
To find her half alone, Montfort away,
And a brown, placid, hated woman visiting her, Spoiling his visit, with a year before the next one. Little enough ?
Or carry him forward. " Go through all the
courts,
My Magnet," Bertrand had said.
We came to Ventadour
In the mid love court, he sings out the canzon,
No one hears save Arrimon Luc D'Esparo
No one hears aught save the gracious sound of
compliments.
Sir Arrimon counts on his fingers, Montfort,
Rochecouart, Chalais, the rest, the tactic, Malemort, guesses beneath, sends word to Coeur
de Lion :
The compact, de Born smoked out, trees felled About his castle, cattle driven out !
Or no one sees it, and En Bertrans prospered ?
And ten years after, or twenty, as you will, Arnaut and Richard lodge beneath Chalus :
The dull round towers encroaching on the field, The tents tight drawn, horses at tether
Further and out of reach, the purple night,
108
? Plantagenet puts the riddle
:
" Did he love her ? "
NEAR PERIGORD
The crackling of small fires, the bannerets,
The lazy leopards on the largest banner,
Stray gleams on hanging mail, an armourer's torch-
flare
Melting on steel.
And in the quietest space
They probe old scandals, say de Born is dead ;
And we've the gossip (skipped six hundred years). Richardshalldieto-morrow leavehimthere
Talking of trobar clus with Daniel.
And the "best craftsman" sings out his friend's
song,
Enviesitsvigour. . . anddeploresthetechnique, Dispraises his own skill ? That's as you will.
And they discuss the dead man,
And Arnaut " Did he love sister ? parries : your
True, he has praised her, but in some opinion He wrote that praise only to show he had
The favour of your party, had been well received. "
" You knew the man. "
" You knew the man. "
"I am an artist, you have tried both metiers. "
" You were born near him. "
"" Do we know our friends ?
" Say that he saw the castles, say that he loved
Maent " !
109 i
? NEAR PERIGORD
" Say that he loved her, does it solve the riddle? " End the discussion, Richard goes out next day
And gets a quarrel-bolt shot through his vizard, Pardons the bowman, dies,
Ends our discussion. Arnaut ends
" In sacred odour"
And we can leave the talk till Dante writes :
Surely I saw, and still before my eyes
Goes on that headless trunk, that bears for light
Its own head swinging, gripped by the dead hair9 And like a swinging lamp that says, "Ah me! I severed men$ my head and heart
Ye see here severed, my life's counterpart" Or take En Bertrans ?
Ill
Ed eran due in uno, ed uno in due. Inferno, XXVIII, 125.
" and the Auvezere Bewildering spring, by
Poppies and day's-eyes in the green email
Rose over us ; and we knew all that stream,
And our two horses had traced out the valleys ; Knew the low flooded lands squared out with
poplars,
In the young days when the deep sky befriended.
110
(that's apocryphal ! )
? NEAR PERIGORD
And great wings beat above us in the twilight, And the great wheels in heaven
Boreustogether. . . surging. . . andapart. . . Believing we should meet with lips and hands.
High,highandsure. . . andthenthecounter-
thrust :
* Why do you love me ? Will you always love
me?
But I am like the grass, I can not love you. '
* and I love and love Or, Love,
you,
And hate your mind, not you, your soul, your
hands. '
So to this last estrangement, Tairiran !
There shut up in his castle, Tairiran's,
She who had nor ears nor tongue save in her
hands,
Gone ah,gone untouched,unreachable!
She who could never live save through one person, She who could never speak save to one person, And all the rest of her a shifting change,
A broken bundle of mirrors .
" ,!
111 I2
? Villanelle: the Psychological Hour
I HAD over-prepared the event, that much was ominous.
With middle-ageing care
I had laid out just the right books.
I had almost turned down the pages.
Beauty is so rare a thing.
So few drink of my fountain.
So much barren regret,
So many hours wasted !
And now I watch, from the window,
the rain, the wandering busses.
" Their little cosmos is shaken "
the air is alive with that fact.
In their parts of the city
they are played on by diverse forces.
How do I know ?
Oh, I know well enough. For them there is something afoot.
112
? VILLANELLE
As for me :
I had over-prepared the event
Beauty is so rare a thing.
So few drink of my fountain.
Two friends : a breath of the forest . . . Friends ? Are people less friends
because one has just, at least, found them ?
Twice they promised to come.
"
Beauty would drink of my mind. Youth would awhile forget
my youth is gone from me.
II
(" Speak up ! You have danced so stiffly ? Someone admired your works,
And said so frankly.
" Did you talk like a fool,
The first night ?
The second evening ?
" But they promised again :
' To-morrow at tea-time. ' ")
113
5: Between the night and morning ?
"
? III
Now the third day is here
no word from either ;
No word from her nor him, Only another man's note :
" Dear I am Pound,
1
VILLANELLE
114
leaving England.
'
? Dans un Omnibus de Londres
LES yeux d'une morte aimee
M'ont salue,
Enchasses dans un visage stupide
Dont tous les autres traits etaient banals, Us m'ont salue
Et alors je vis bien des choses Au dedans de ma memoire
Eemuer, S'eveiller.
Je vis des canards sur le bord d'un lac minuscule, Aupres d'un petit enfant gai, bossu.
"
Des patriciennes,
aux toisons couleur de lin,
Et des pigeonnes Grasses
comme des poulardes. 115
Je vis les colonnes anciennes en "toe Du Pare Monceau,
Et deux petites filles graciles,
? DANS UN OMNIBUS DE LONDRES
Je vis le pare,
Et tous les gazons divers
Ou nous avions loue des chaises Pour quatre sous.
Je vis les cygnes noirs,
Japonais, Leurs ailes
Teintees de couleur sang-de-dragon,
Et toutes les fleurs D'Armenonville.
Les yeux d'une morte M'ont salue.
116
? To a Friend Writing on Cabaret Dancers
" Breathe not the word to-morrow in her ears. " Vir Quidem, on Dancers.
GOOD "Hedgethorn," for we'll anglicize your name
Until the last slut's hanged and the last pig disemboweled,
Seeing your wife is charming and your child Sings in the open meadow at least the kodak
says so
My good fellow, you, on a cabaret silence And the dancers, you write a sonnet,
Say "Forget To-morrow," being of all men The most prudent, orderly, and decorous !
" " has no so write. Pepita to-morrow, you
Pepita has such to-morrows: with the hands
puffed out,
The pug-dog's features encrusted with tallow
Sunk in a frowsy collar an unbrushed black. She will not bathe too often, but her jewels
117
? CABARET DANCERS
Will be a stuffy, opulent sort of fungus
Spread on both hands and on the up-pushed
bosom
It juts like a shelf between the jowl and corset.
Have you, or I seen most of cabarets, good Hedgethorn ?
Here's Pepita, tall and slim as an Egyptian
mummy,
Marsh-cranberries, the ribbed and angular pods Flare up with scarlet orange on stiff stalks
And so Pepita
flares on the crowded stage before our
tables
Or slithers about between the dishonest waiters
" Carmen est maigre, un trait de bistre
"
And " rend la flamme "
you know the deathless verses.
I search the features, the avaricious features Pulled by the kohl and rouge out of resemblance
Six pence the object for a change of passion.
" Write me a poem. "
Come now, my dear Pepita, "-ita, bonita, chiquita,"
that's what you mean you advertising spade,
118
Cerne son ceil de gitana
? CABARET DANCERS
Or take the intaglio, my fat great-uncle's heir- loom :
Cupid, astride a phallus with two wings, Swinging a cat-o'-nine-tails.
No.
I have seen through the crust.
I don't know what you look like But your smile pulls one way
and your painted grin another, While that cropped fool,
that torn-boy who can't earn her living.
Come, come to-morrow,
To-morrow in ten years at the latest,
She will be drunk in the ditch, but you, Pepita,
Will be quite rich, quite plump, with pug-bitch features,
With a black tint staining your cuticle, Prudent and svelte Pepita.
" writmea " Poete, poeme !
Spanish and Paris, love of the arts part of your geisha-culture !
Euhenia, in short skirts, slaps her wide stomach, Pulls up a roll of fat for the pianist,
Pepita,
" Pauvre femme " she maigre !
says. He sucks his chop bone,
That some one else has paid for,
grins up an amiable grin, Explains the decorations.
119
? CABARET DANCERS
Good Hedgethorn, they all have futures, All these people.
Old Popkoff
Will dine next week with Mrs. Basil,
Will meet a duchess and an ex-diplomat's widow FromWeehawken whohasneverknown
Any
but " " and Italian nobles. Majesties
Euhenia will have a fonda in Orbajosa.
The amorous nerves will give way to digestive ^
" Delight thy soul in fatness," saith the preacher. We can't preserve the elusive " mica salis"
It may last well in these dark northern climates, Nell Gwynn's still here, despite the reformation, And Edward's mistresses still light the stage,
A glamour of classic youth in their deportment. The prudent whore is not without her future,
Her bourgeois dulness is deferred. Herpresentdulness. . .
Oh well, her present dulness . . .
Now in Venice, 'Storante al Giardino, I went early, Saw the performers come : him, her, the baby,
A quiet and respectable-tawdry trio ;
An hour later : a show of calves and spangles,
" Un e due fanno tre"
Night after night,
No change, no change of program, " Che I La donna e mobile"
120
? Homage to Quintus Septimius Florentis Christianus
(Ex libris Graecae) I
THEODORUS will be pleased at my death,
And someone else will be pleased at the death of
Theodoras,
And yet everyone speaks evil of death.
II
This place is the Cyprian's, for she has ever the
fancy
To be looking out across the bright sea, Therefore the sailors are cheered, and the waves
Keep small with reverence, beholding her image. Anyte.
Ill
A sad and great evil is the expectation of death And there are also the inane expenses of the
funeral
Let us therefore cease from pitying the dead For after death there comes no other calamity.
;
121
Palladas.
? Woman ? Take her.
Agathas Scholasticus. V
Oh, woman is a consummate rage,
but dead, or asleep, she pleases. She has two excellent seasons.
Palladas.
HOMAGE
IV
Troy
Whither, city, are your profits and your gilded shrines,
And your barbecues of great oxen,
And the tall women walking your streets, in gilt
clothes,
With their perfumes in little alabaster boxes ? Where is the work of your home-born sculptors ?
Time's tooth is into the lot, and war's and fate's too.
Envy has taken your all,
Save your douth and your story.
VI
Nicharcus upon Phidon his doctor
Phidon neither purged me, nor touched me,
But I remembered the name of his fever medicine
122
and died.
? Fish and the Shadow
THE salmon-trout drifts in the stream,
The soul of the salmon-trout floats over the
stream
Like a little wafer of light.
The salmon moves in the sun-shot, bright shallow sea*
As light as the shadow of the fish
that falls through the water, She came into the large room by the stair,
Yawning a little she came with the sleep still upon her.