Chapter X: Fools Say

November's breath
Is black in the branches of trees
And under the bushes,

Harsh rain
Whips down the rustling dance
Of leaves.

There is smoke
In the throat of the wind,
Its teeth
Bite away beauty.

Let fools say:
"Spring
Will come again!"

Disillusion

I touch joy and it crumbles under my fingers--
The dust from it rises and fills the world,
It blinds my eyes--I cannot see the sun.
A choking fog of dust shuts me apart.

I remember the sparkling wind on a bright autumn morning,
I let down my hair and danced in the golden gale,
Then chased the wind as the wind chased fallen leaves--
Wind cannot be caught and tamed like a bird.

I touch joy and it crumbles to dust in my fingers.

November Afternoon

Upon our heads
The oak leaves fall
Like silent benedictions
Closing Autumn's gorgeous ritual,
And we, upborne by worship,
Lift our eyes to the altar of distant hills.

Beloved
How can I know
What gods are yours,
How can I guess the visions of your spirit,
Or hear
The silent prayers your heart has said?

Only by this I feel
Your gods akin to mine,
That when our lips have met
On this last golden Autumn afternoon
They have confessed in silence
Our kisses were less precious than our dreams.

Today, our passion drowned in beauty,
We turn away our faces toward the hills
Where purple haze, old incense,
Spreads its veil.

Yareth at Solomon's Tomb

At last
Your search is at an end,
King Solomon,

You, restless dreamer,
For whom each face held promise
Unfulfilled,
Whose hungry arms held many women,
(Though none could fill your need)
Who seized, but never loved,
This is your sepulchre...

I who till today
Questioned my heart
Now find it buried with you
In this tomb;

So now I can forgive you
That you never believed
My love!

Argolis

Like sun on grasses
Warming to life
Quaint beetles, curious weeds,
Till earth awakens, pregnant beneath its rays--
So came the shepherds down to Argolis.

As nameless trees
Cast cloud-grey shadows there
On moon-pale, tarnished snow,
Till snow and shadow are lost,
Alike confused and forgotten
Among the withered reeds--
So lies their memory across its heart.

St. Faith's Eve

We stood together on a balcony
An hour when the night
Died into blankness,
And light mist
Curling beneath us, hid the earth,
And the cold, unburied stars
Drew further into space...

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 passion, without fervour,
I spoke at last:
"Somehow Faith
Shines 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 morass of passion 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
Attitude 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 shield...
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 cocktail!

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