Let Scribes spit Blood and Sulphur as they please, Or Statesmen call me foolish--Heed not you.

Behold, I promise--Anything You will.

Behold, I greet you with an empty Till-- Ah! Fellow-Sinners, of your Charity Seek not the Reason of the Dearth, but fill.

For if I sinned and fell, where lies the Gain Of Knowledge? Would it ease you of your Pain To know the tangled Threads of Revenue, I ravel deeper in a hopeless Skein?

"Who hath not Prudence"--what was it I said, Of Her who paints her Eyes and tires Her Head, And gibes and mocks the People in the Street, And fawns upon them for Her thriftless Bread?

Accursed is She of Eve's daughters--She Hath cast off Prudence, and Her End shall be Destruction... Brethren, of your Bounty Some portion of your daily Bread to Me.

LA NUIT BLANCHE

A much-discerning Public hold The Singer generally sings And prints and sells his past for gold.

Whatever I may here disclaim, The very clever folk I sing to Will most indubitably cling to Their pet delusion, just the same.

I had seen, as the dawn was breaking And I staggered to my rest, Tari Devi softly shaking From the Cart Road to the crest.

I had seen the spurs of Jakko Heave and quiver, swell and sink.

Was it Earthquake or tobacco, Day of Doom, or Night of Drink?

In the full, fresh fragrant morning I observed a camel crawl, Laws of gravitation scorning, On the ceiling and the wall; Then I watched a fender walking, And I heard grey leeches sing, And a red-hot monkey talking Did not seem the proper thing.

Then a Creature, skinned and crimson, Ran about the floor and cried, And they said that I had the "jims" on, And they dosed me with bromide, And they locked me in my bedroom-- Me and one wee Blood Red Mouse-- Though I said: "To give my head room You had best unroof the house."

But my words were all unheeded, Though I told the grave M.D.

That the treatment really needed Was a dip in open sea That was lapping just below me, Smooth as silver, white as snow, And it took three men to throw me When I found I could not go.

Half the night I watched the Heavens Fizz like '81 champagne-- Fly to sixes and to sevens, Wheel and thunder back again; And when all was peace and order Save one planet nailed askew, Much I wept because my warder Would not let me set it true.

After frenzied hours of waiting, When the Earth and Skies were dumb, Pealed an awful voice dictating An interminable sum, Changing to a tangle story-- "What she said you said I said"-- Till the Moon arose in glory, And I found her... in my head;

Then a Face came, blind and weeping, And It couldn't wipe its eyes, And It muttered I was keeping Back the moonlight from the skies; So I patted it for pity, But it whistled shrill with wrath, And a huge black Devil City Poured its peoples on my path.

So I fled with steps uncertain On a thousand-year long race, But the bellying of the curtain Kept me always in one place; While the tumult rose and maddened To the roar of Earth on fire, Ere it ebbed and sank and saddened To a whisper tense as wire.

In tolerable stillness Rose one little, little star, And it chuckled at my illness, And it mocked me from afar; And its brethren came and eyed me, Called the Universe to aid, Till I lay, with naught to hide me, 'Neath the Scorn of All Things Made.

Dun and saffron, robed and splendid, Broke the solemn, pitying Day, And I knew my pains were ended, And I turned and tried to pray; But my speech was shattered wholly, And I wept as children weep.

Till the dawn-wind, softly, slowly, Brought to burning eyelids sleep.

MY RIVAL

I go to concert, party, ball-- What profit is in these?

I sit alone against the wall And strive to look at ease.

The incense that is mine by right They burn before her shrine; And that's because I'm seventeen And She is forty-nine.

I cannot check my girlish blush, My color comes and goes; I redden to my finger-tips, And sometimes to my nose.

But She is white where white should be, And red where red should shine.

The blush that flies at seventeen Is fixed at forty-nine.

I wish I had Her constant cheek; I wish that I could sing All sorts of funny little songs, Not quite the proper thing.

I'm very gauche and very shy, Her jokes aren't in my line; And, worst of all, I'm seventeen While She is forty-nine.

The young men come, the young men go Each pink and white and neat, She's older than their mothers, but They grovel at Her feet.

They walk beside Her 'rickshaw wheels-- None ever walk by mine; And that's because I'm seventeen And She is forty-nine.

She rides with half a dozen men, (She calls them "boys" and "mashers") I trot along the Mall alone; My prettiest frocks and sashes Don't help to fill my programme-card, And vainly I repine From ten to two A.M. Ah me!

Would I were forty-nine!

She calls me "darling," "pet," and "dear,"

And "sweet retiring maid."

I'm always at the back, I know, She puts me in the shade.

She introduces me to men, "Cast" lovers, I opine, For sixty takes to seventeen, Nineteen to forty-nine.

But even She must older grow And end Her dancing days, She can't go on forever so At concerts, b.a.l.l.s and plays.

One ray of priceless hope I see Before my footsteps shine; Just think, that She'll be eighty-one When I am forty-nine.

THE LOVERS' LITANY

Eyes of grey--a sodden quay, Driving rain and falling tears, As the steamer wears to sea In a parting storm of cheers.

Sing, for Faith and Hope are high-- None so true as you and I-- Sing the Lovers' Litany: "Love like ours can never die!"

Eyes of black--a throbbing keel, Milky foam to left and right; Whispered converse near the wheel In the brilliant tropic night.

Cross that rules the Southern Sky!

Stars that sweep and wheel and fly, Hear the Lovers' Litany: Love like ours can never die!"

Eyes of brown--a dusty plain Split and parched with heat of June, Flying hoof and tightened rein, Hearts that beat the old, old tune.

Side by side the horses fly, Frame we now the old reply Of the Lovers' Litany: "Love like ours can never die!"