Collected Works (Vol. II)

§2 ORACLES EVE. Written in the Mosque of Omar, HERs was the first sufficient sacrifice That won us freedom, hers the generous - gift That turned herself upon the curse adrift Sailless and rudderless, to pay the price Of permanence with pain, of love with vice, Like a tall ship swan-lovely, swallow-swift, That makes upon the breakers. So the rift Sprang and the flame roared. Farewell, Paradise ! | How shall a man that is a man reward Her priceless sacrifice, rebuke the Lord? Why, there’s Convention’s corral ; ring her round! Here’s shame’s barbed wire; push out the unclean thing! Elere’s freedom’s falconry ;. quick, clip her wing ! There, labour’s danger—thrust her under- ground ! THE SIBYL. CROUCHED o’er the tripod the pale priestess moans Ambiguous destiny, divided fate. Sibylline oracles of woe create Roars as of beasts, majestic monotones Of wind, strong cries of elemental thrones, All sounds of mystery of the Pythian state! O woman without change or joy or date I await thy oracle as the Delphian stone’s ! Desunt cetera, LA COUREUSE. Written in the Quartier Latin, Paris. A FADED skirt, a silken petticoat, A little jacket, a small shapely shoe, A toque. A symphony in gray and blue, The child ripples, the conquering master-note Subtlety. Faint, stray showers of twilight float In shadows round the well-poised head ; dark, true, Joyous the eyes laugh—and are weeping too, For all the victory of her royal throat. She showed her purse with tantalising’ prace # Some sous, a franc, a key, some stuff, soft grey. The mocking laughter trills upon her tongue : ‘‘There’s all my fortune.” ‘And your pretty face ! What doyoudo?” Wearily, ‘‘ I am gay.” ‘What do you hope for?” Simply, “To die young.” SONNET FOR A PICTURE.?! ‘* rotxtdoOpov’, dbavar’ ’Adpodira.” Zarow. “e We have seen Gold tarnished, and the gray above —SWINBURNE. As some lone mountebank of the stage may tweak The noses of his fellows, so Gavin ? Tweaks with her brush-work the absurd obscene Academicians. How her pictures speak ! Chiaroscuro Rembrandtesque, form Greek ! What values! What a composition clean ! Breadth shaming broadness! Manner epicene ! Texture superb! Magnificent technique ! Raphael, Velasquez, Michael Angelo, Stare, gape,. and splutter when they see thy colour, Reds killing roses, greens blaspheming grass, O thou art simply perfect, don’t you know ? Than thee all masters of old time are duller, O artiste of the Quartier Montparnasse! . 1 A parody on his own appreciations of Rodin’s sculpture. * An art studentin Paris at this time.