Oxford Poetry, 1920

SINCE I have seen you do those intimate things That other men but dream of; lull asleep The sinister dark forest of your hair, And tie the bows that stir on your calm breast Faintly as leaves that shudder in their sleep. Since I have seen your stocking swallow up, A swift black wind, the pale flame of your foot, And deemed your slender limbs so meshed in silk Sweet mermaid sisters drowned in their dark hair; I have not troubled overmuch with food, And wine has seemed like water from a well; Pavements are built of fire, grass of thin flames. All other girls grow dull as painted flowers Or flutter harmlessly like coloured flies Whose wings are tangled in the net of leaves Spread by frail trees that grow behind the eyes.

THE MAGNANIMITY OF BEASTS

MAN—you who think you really know The beast you gaze on in the show, Nor see with what consummate art Each animal enacts its part— How different do they all appear The moment that you are not there! Then, fawns with liquid eyes a-flame Pursue the bear, their nightly game; Wolves shiver as the rabbit roars And stretches his terrific claws; While trembling tigers dare not sleep For passionate, relentless sheep, And frantic eagles through the skies Are chased by angry butterflies. —But beasts would suffer all confusions Before they shattered man’s illusions.