MARTIN
D. ARMSTRONG .
COWARDICE .
THE king cried “ Bring me colour , the heart's wine :
Open my treasuries ,”
he cried ,
“ and heap
Autumnal
rubies , emeralds
that shine
Like sunlit
seas, and sapphires
dark
and
deep
As nights
of
summer , and
the shattered
glow
Of
irised
opals .
Bring me sanguine
grapes
And tawny -hearted
peaches , figs
that
show
The
purpled
pulp ,
and
nectarous
plums
whose
shapes
Hang
down
like drops
of
amber .
Fill
the urns
And
crystal
flagons with
clear
essences
And
glutinous syrops ; scatter
soft-plumed
ferns
And
flowers
with
crimson
throats
or
cavities
Cupped
with
sea- blue, and
sunset
dahlias,
And sun -flowers
round whose
fulgent discs
are curled
Tongues
of
gold
flame, like
an
ethereal
blaze
That
forged
the
substance
of the teeming
world ."
They brought
him
jewels
from
the
treasuries
And
poured
them
forth
before
him
,-
sapphires blue
As
southern
nights
,
rubies
,
chalcedonies
,
And
fiery
opals
.
Slaves
in
order
due