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BLACK ARMOUR
ELINOR WYLIE
Black Armour
A Book of Poems
NEW
YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANYCopyright, 1923,
By George H. Doran Company
Black Armour. I
Printed in the United States of AmFor
W. R. B.CONTENTS
	PAGE
I: BREASTPLATE	
Full Moon	11
Nebuchadnezzar	13
Three Wishes	14
Prophecy	15
Epitaph	16
Song	17
Drowned Woman	19
The Good Birds	20
II: GAUNTLET	
Peregrine	23
Heroics	28
Lucifer Sings in Secret	30
Preference	32
Simon Gerty	33
Let No Charitable Hope	35
This Hand	36
III: HELMET	
Self-Portrait	41
Cold Blooded Creatures	42
King Honour s Eldest Son	43
[vii]CONTENTS
HELMET [Continued]	PAGE
Nonchalance	44
South	45
Demon Lovers	46
Fable	47
BEAVER UP	
Castilian	51
Sequence	53
Little Sonnet	56
Pity Me	57
Unfinished Portrait	58
Benvenuto’s Valentine	59
Twelfth Night	61
PLUMES	
Now That Your Eyes Are Shut	65
Lilliputian	67
Parting Gift	68
Francie’s Fingers	69
Beware!	71
Gifts at Meeting	72
To Aphrodite, with a Talisman	74
To a Blackbird Singing	75
On a Singing Girl	76
To Claudia Homonoea	77
[viii]■ BREASTPLATEFull Moon
My bands of and miniver
Moment^ gjew heavier;
^ff£e black gauze was beggarly thin;
The	muffled rnoUth and chin
I could not^^^^ra njoonlight in.
Harlequin in lozenges
Of love and hate, I walked in these
Striped and ragged fagrrulrole^^B
Along the	my footsoles
Trod warily (^«Living coals»
Shouldejgjg uie mOTgM® loathed,
In th<siv corrupt
Mortality I could not tear
From my rl&9 to-leave them bare
Ivory in silver air.
[nBLACK ARMOUR
There I walked, and there I raged;
The spiritual savage caged
Within my skeleton, raged afresh
To feel, behind a carnal mesh,
The clean bones crying in the flesh.
[12]BREASTPLATE
TVebuchadnezzar
My body is	death of my mischievous
brain;
I am weary forever Emwver of being brave;
Therefore I crouch on my knees while the cool
wh Strain
Curves the -clo-SSferaSny head like a wave.
The stem and ^Hjfosty seed of the grass are
Hripe;
I hav^^^S^Mtheir strength; I have drunk
A nd. fhp dafireltan i^^fflgin a thin green pipe,
But the (Slbver is honey and sun and the smell
of sleep.
[13]BLACK ARMOUR
Three Wishes
Sink out of being, and go down, go down
Through the steep layers of emerald and jade
With warm thin skin of turquoise overlaid,
Where the slow coral spins a ghostly town
Of tower and minaret and fretted crown,
Give up your breath in sleep’s subaqueous
shade,
Hold to oblivion; are you afraid
Of cold deep death? Are you afraid to drown?
You have three flashing looks, like fairy
wishes ;
One burns your eyelids with a lightning-wink
Which turns into a rainbow world, and one
Shows sea-birds brighter than the silver fishes,
And one—the last wild chance before you
sink—
A flock of dancing clouds about the sun.
[H]BREASTPLATE
Prophecy
I shall lie hjd^lfgjk in a hut
In thef'joniddle of an alder wood,
With thijf back door^ffind and bolted shut,
And the door locked for good.
I shall lie i^fcfcd^Ke a saint,
Lapped in
On a bedstead^Biped with bright-blue paint,
Narrow and cold apd neat.
The r^|d^^htt;will be glassy black
Behind the panes, with wind about
TcESgt his mouth against a crack
And blow the candle oiit.
[15]BLACK ARMOUR
Epitaph
For this she starred her eyes with salt
And scooped her temples thin,
Until her face shone pure of fault
From the forehead to the chin.
In coldest crucibles of pain
Her shrinking flesh was fired
And smoothed into a finer grain
To make it more desired.
Pain left her lips more clear than glass;
It colored and cooled her hand.
She lay a field of scented grass
Yielded as pasture land.
For this her loveliness was curved
And carved as silver is:
For this she was brave: but she deserved
A better grave than this.
[16]B REA STPLATE
Song
It is	colour
^S^Eou	tween;
Thoughts lunar and solar
And and
Tint the^Sire
Of the crystal E^S^»|
A rainbow nuisance
It runs thrc^^HRiy head.
When I am de^S orjEl^^ing
Without any pain,
My soul will stop creeping
Thfcbi^^Hy jewelleraim|in.
With no brijgbHss to dyesjflj
None wi^^E where
Inflows clear and quiet
As^^Br of a^^B
[17]BLACK ARMOUR
w Catering dark places
Without sparkle or sound;
Kissing dumb faces
And the dusty ground.
[i 8]BREASTPLATE
Drowned Woman
He shall be my jailer
Who sets me free
From shackles frailer
Than the wind-spun sea.
He shall be my teacher
Who cries “Be brave.”
To a weeping creature
In a glass-walled wave.
But he shall be my brother
Whose mocking despair
Dives headlong to smother
In the weeds of my hair.
[19]BLACK ARMOUR
The Good Birds
Threading the evil hand and look
I sprang, on sinews spare and light,
To sleep beside a water-brook
Where snow was sprinkled overnight.
I spread my cloak upon the ground,
I laid my head upon a stone,
I stared into the sky and found
That I no longer lived alone.
He turned His burning eyes on me
From smoke above a mountain-shelf;
I did not want His company
Who wanted no one but myself.
I whistled shrill, I whistled keen;
The birds were servant to my nod.
They wove their wings into a screen
Between my lovely ground and God.
[20]II: GAUNTLETPeregrine
Liar and bragger,
He had no friend
Except a dagger
And a candle-end;
The one he read by;
The one scared cravens;
And he was fed by
The Prophet’s ravens.
Such haughty creatures
Avoid the human;
They fondle nature’s
Breast, not woman—
A she-wolf’s puppies—
A wild-cat’s pussy-fur:
Their stirrup-cup is
The pride of Lucifer.
A stick he carried,
Slept in a lean-to;
[23]BLACK ARMOUR
He’d never married,
And he didn’t mean to.
He’d tried religion
And found it pleasant;
He relished a pigeon
Stewed with a pheasant
In an iron kettle;
He built stone ovens.
He’d never settle
In any province.
He made pantries
Of Vaux and Arden
And the villjre gentry’s
Kitchen-garden.
Fruits within yards
W ere his staples;
He drank whole vineyards
From Rome to Maples,
Then went to Brittany
For the cider.
He could sit any
Horse, a rider
Outstripping Cheiron’s
Canter and gallop.GAUNTLET
Pau’s environs
The pubs of Salop,
Wells and Bath inns
Shared his pleasure
With taverns of Athens;
The Sultan’s treasure
He’d seen in Turkey;
He’d known London
Bright and murky.
H is bones were sunned on
Paris benches
Beset by sparrows;
Roman trenches,
Cave-men’s barrows,
He liked, impartial;
He liked an Abbey.
HisBtep was martial;
Spent and shabby
He wasn’t broken;
A dozen lingoes
He must have spoken.
As a king goes
He went, not minding
That he lived seeking
[25]BLACK ARMOUR
And never finding.
He’d visit Peking
And then be gone soon
To the far Canaries;
He’d cross a monsoon
To chase vagaries.
He loved a city
And a street’s alarums;
Parks were pretty
And so were bar-rooms.
He loved fiddles;
He talked with rustics;
Life was riddles
And queer acrostics.
H is sins were serried,
His virtues garish;
His corpse was buried
In a country parish.
Before he went hence—
God knows where—
He spoke this sentence
With a princely air:
“The noose draws tighter
This is the end;
[26]GAUNTLET
I’m a good fighter,
But a bad friend:
I’ve played the traitor
Over and over;
I’m a good hater,
But a bad lover.”
[27]BLACK ARMOUR
Heroics
Though here and there a man is left
Whose iron thread eludes the shears,
The martyr with his bosom cleft
Is dead these seven heavy years.
Does he survive whose tongue was slit,
To slake some envy of a king’s?
Sportive silver cried from it
Before the savage cut the strings.
The rack has crumpled up the limb
Stretched immediate to fly;
Never ask the end of him
Stubborn to outstare the sky.
Assuming an heroic mask,
He stands a tall derisive tree,
While servile to the speckled task
We move devoted hand and knee.
[28]G A U N T L E T
It is no virtue, but a fault
Thus	air,
Suffering unclean assault
And insult dubious to bear.
BLACK ARMOUR
Lucifer Sings in Secret
I am the broken arrow
From Jehovah’s quiver;
He will not let me sorrow
Forever and ever.
He will give me a new feather
That is white, not red;
He will bind me together
With the hairs of his head.
My shaft will be jointed
Like the young springing corn;
My tip will be pointed
With a painted thorn.
He will be willing
That I lift my voice,
Among all killing
To make my choice;
To harry the wagons
Of the wicked’s retreat;
[30]GAUNTLET
To murder dragons
Who have licked my feet.
I shall choose the target
H is arrow deserves;
I shall trace and mark it
In scarlet curves.
Small and bloody
As a fallen sparrow
My own dead body
Shall receive his arrow.
[31]BLACK ARMOUR
Preference
These to me are beautiful people;
Thick hair sliding in a ripple ;
A tall throat, round as a column;
A mournful mouth, small and solemn,
Having to confound the mourner
Irony in either corner;
The limbs fine, narrow and strong;
Like the wind they walk along,
Like the whirlwind, bad to follow;
The cheekbones high, the cheeks hollow,
The eyes large and wide apart.
They carry a dagger in the heart
So keen and clean it never rankles. . . .
They wear small bones in wrists and ankles.
[32]GAUNTLET
Simon Gerty
( Who Turned Renegade and Lived With the Indians)
By what appalling dim upheaval
kinder plan,
Did become incttfaffllevil
Wearing the livery of man?
Perhaps you hate^^^^Sof tallow,
Dead	of
Until a beaiSt^Hrne to haHkM?
Even p^l^bapdiest tomahawk.
Perhaps you loathed your Ijtrafbers’ features
Pallid and pinched, or
Perhaps you loved these cfimfflgffltures
Clean muscled as a panther cat.
Did you believe that beinfi^lSaiftel
Was that which made their fftfifflpa^t jift
So proudly, gave their eyes a jewel,
And turned their padtlii(^0](qis(^|at||j^ift?
[33]BLACK ARMOUR
As one by one our faiths are shaken
Our hatreds fall; so mine for you.
Of course I think you were mistaken
But still, I see your point of view.
[34]GAUNTLET
Let No Charitable Hope
Now let no charitable hope
Confuse my mind with images
Of eagle and of antelope:
I am in nature none of these.
I was, being human, born alone;
I am, being woman, hard beset;
I live by squeezing from a stone
The little nourishment I get.
In masks outrageous and austere
The years go by in single file;
But none has merited my fear,
And none has quite escaped my smile.
[35]BLACK ARM CrWR.
This Hand
■Bffijhiis hand	observed,
HpPEpi ss ive and detached,
With j^^B»droitl^^^^^^|
And fjifiMK0S|Hnatched:
Blue-veined gyp yellowish,
Ambigtj^BgjSPH!IM!
And seiflffiHa fish,
And SuqySn i^|n asp:
It doiiblEpSfffiraWw
Or drdti^®fflEm®5Std diill;
WThe socket of my wris^H
Control^H^^^^pvill.
It leaps to my comn^^^H
Tautened, or tretnbling lax;
It lies within gwur hand
Anatomy of wax.
[1]GAUNTLET
If I had seen a thorn
Broken to grape vine bud;
If I had ever borne
Child of our mingled blood;
Elixirs might escape;
But now, compact as stone,
My hand preserves a shape
Too utterly its own.
[37]Ill: HELMET


Self-Portrait
A lens of crystal	tjaifS^Sfei^Balrns
Queer stars toajfe^my.
Fox-fires to form austere refracted angles:
A texture poli^Sed on the Jwny*|^Ht
Of vast equivoca^^ffinirejs*. beast or hurrj^^H
A flint, a substance finer-grained than snow,
Graved with the Sffiam intaglio
To set saMftgUic sdgil on the woman.
This Sol* the rr^™,aad for the litde rest
A MElovi scooped to blackness in the breast,
The dlSiulacrum of a cloud, a featl^^H
Instead of sOKfe, instead of sculptured strength,
This	this vanity, blown kitfaer and
thither
By trivial breath, over the whole world’s
length.
[41]BLACK ARMOUR
Cold Blooded Creatures
Man, the egregious egoist,
(In mystery the twig is bent,)
Imagines, by some mental twist,
That he alone is sentient
Of the intolerable load
Which on all living creatures lies,
Nor stoops to pity in the toad
The speechless sorrow of its eyes.
He asks no questions of the snake,
Nor plumbs the phosphorescent gloom
Where lidless fishes, broad awake,
Swim staring at a night-mare doom.
[42]HELMET
JCing Honour s Eldest Son
HS^ther’s steel, pierci]® the wholesome fruit
Of his mother’s flesh, wrot^^^^ly to mar
Its own Damascus, staining worse than war
A ^wity intense and absolute;
While her clean stock put forth a poisoned
* shoot, r
In likeness of a twisted scimitar,
^KekE^ffiovelMrapglwas a scar,
Wrong a$ the firstborn of a mandrake root.
There was a waning moon upon his brow,
A fallen star upon hijPpointed chin;
He rr^igled Ariel with Caliban;
But sa^^T>l6ssom upon such a bough
Convinced his poor progenitors of sin
In having made a something more than man.
[43]BLACK ARMOUR
Nonchalance
This cool and laughing mind, renewed
From covert sources like a spring’s,
Is potent to translate the mood
Of all distraught and twisted things.
In this clear water shall be cast
Outrageous shapes of steel and gold,
And all their hot and clotted past
Beaded with bubbles silver-cold.
The moving power takes their heat
Into itself, forgetting them;
And warmth in trickles, slow and sweet
Comforts a fainting lily-stem.
[44]HELMET
South
Spotted by sun, and visible
Above me iiH	vault,
Wttb'that thick sticky linden-smell
Saturate, as the aSSvith salt.
Transmu^^Ell tSblue to green
And aH:he green to ^pei^E tongues,
And breathed in pair^^nn heavy lungs.
Is tj&'that IHffiffir element
WhicI^^H like l^t, and will not stop
To drink
While th^ftipg for the mountain-top?
[45]BLACK ARMOUR
Demon Lovers
The peacock and the mocking-bird
CryToffler in her^^^^^f
Public librarRghave blurred
The pages of hi^^^^Rest.
He wanders	a cloud
In chevelure of curled perruque;
MaskecHtSBEns in a crowd
Strangle the uxoriBS duke.
Castilian facfH Lucifer,
Juan does not remove his cap;
Unswaddled infant® to her
H is soul lies kicking in her lap.
While she, transported by the wind,
Mercutio has cl^^^Sand kissed. . . ,
Like qftflffijflvei^HBabsent mind
Evades them both, and Is not missed.
[46]HELMET
Fable
A knight lay dead in Senlac:
One white raven stood
Where his breast-bone showed a crack
She dipped her beak in blood.
The old man’s lean and carven head
Was severed under the chin:
The raven’s beak was varnished red
Where the veins ran small and thin.
Empty sockets sucked the light
Where the great gold eyes had shone:
Oh, but the raven’s eyes were bright
With fire she supped upon!
The old man’s beard was ravelled up
In stiff and webby skeins:
From his broad skull’s broken cup
The raven sipped his brains.
[47]BLACK ARMOUR
Insensate with that burning draught
Her feathers turned to flame:
Like a cruel silver shaft
Across the sun she came.
She flew straight into God’s house;
She drank the virtuous air.
A knight lay dead: his gutted brows
Gaped hollow under his hair.
[48]IV:BEAVER UP
Castilian
Velasquez took a pliant^pife
And scraped his palette cleaiï;^
He said, “I lead a dog’s own lifejJ
Painting a king ffiPfqhepir^V
He cleaned^^Bplettè with oily tags
And oakum from Seville'wharves;
“I am sick (SffiBffnepainted hags
And
“The drH^Mver, t^eiclouds. afe pearlf^
Their locks are looped with rain.
I will not paint Maria’s girl
For a|| the^^ra|Ei Spain.”
He wâîÉtfid his fagSm water cold,
Hijfc' Hands in tHEajtâraffe
He squeezed out colour like coins of gold
Ani& idfeur like drops of wine.
[51]BLACK ARMOUR
Each colour lay like a little pool
On the polished cedar wood;
Clear and pale and ivory-cool
Or dark as solitude.
He burnt the rags in the fireplace
And leaned from the window high;
He said, “I like that gentleman’s face
Who wears his cap awry.”
This is the gentleman, there he stands,
Castilian, sombre-caped,
With arrogant eyes, and narrow hands
Miraculously ¡shaped.
[52]Sequence
i
This is the end of all, and yet I strive
To fight for nothing, having nothing kept
Of lo^lffifes thajEaved nrrasQ*alive
Before this killing distillation crept
Numbing my limbs, ant^iffening my
To elav.	fhnti the salted thorn
Whereon a tyran^Sbanneret is hung
As scarecrow for a h^StStingSyll-born:
And I am barren in »barren land,
But who so brSwfcs me, I shali&fierce his
This much is true, that there were certain times,
MMmftid by minBHs, with a blank between,
When ouflr two	meet, and climb
Into the blue abo^Efeus blowing green;
But now the lifted pasture is too high,
The sfej||l too <imp, for euch vere noble grav^sj
In this unlighted kennel, where to dieBLACK ARMOUR
Will not awaken hounds, nor anger slaves,
I shall advise me to prepare my couch;
Here it is dark; for more I may not vouch.
n
One of these men will find my skeleton;
To one it will be delicate and slim,
With stars for eyes, and portent of a sun
Rising between the ribs to frighten him;
Yet, being bold, he might embrace it soon
With quick insensate passion in the night,
And by the holy taper of the moon
Encouraged, and because its bones were light
As filagree of pearl, he might depart
Bearing my jangled heart-strings on his heart.
And he might bury it in sand or sod,
Stamping it down to circumvent the wolf,
And, being kind, commend it to his God,
Whose Mind was swimming somewhere in the
gulf
Above his head; but if that other found
The rotten framework of his servitor,
He’d leave it lying on the cluttered ground
Between a bottle and an apple-core,
[54lBEAVER UP
And go his way, in agony and. Sweat,
Because he could not pity nor forget.
iii
For various questions which I shall not ask,
And various answers which I cannot hear,
I have contrived a substituted task
To prove my body is devoid of fear;
To prove my spirit’s elemental blood
Is pure, courageous, and uniform,
I shall submerge my body in the mud,
I shall submit my spirit to the storm;
I shall bend down my bosom to the snake,
As to an infant for its father’s sake.
I shall persist, I shall pursue my way
Believing that his cruelty was fine
As tempered steel for chastening of clay,
Impatient of corrosions that were mine;
He that despised me shall not be forgot;
He that disparaged me shall be my lord;
That was a flambeau, half-consumed and hot,
This was the running light along a sword;
And though I warmed my fingers at the one,
The other is my father and my son.
[55]BLACK ARMOUR
Little Sonnet
Let your loving bondwoman
Salute your lips if you prefer;
This is your courtesy to her.
Yet still remember how she ran
From her grave, and running, leapt
To catch the arrows of your hurt,
To stretch her body in dust and dirt,
Flinging a causey where you stepped.
Remember how, asleep or waking,
The shallow pillow of her breast
Shook and shook to your heart’s shaking,
In pity whereof her heart was split;
Love her now; forget the rest;
She has herself forgotten it.
[56]BEAVER UP
Pity Me
Pity the wolves who prowl unsleeping
Guarding thea thief;
Pity the proud leopards weeping
Tears pi subtle grief.
Pity the savage panthers, sheathing
Sharp disdajaBB&ffireiloves;
Pity the	-lions breathing
Fire upon thdr loves.
PiM^.jfcpckly star that
The Christ Child with its shattered spear
Pi^fi^^BpUlght when, it lightens;
PitvJ^Bmy dear.
[57]BLACK ARMOUR
Unfinished Portrait
My love, you know that I have never used
That fluency of colour smooth and rich
Could cage you in enamel for the niche
Whose heart-shape holds you; I have been
accused
Of gold and silver trickery, infused
With blood of meteors, and moonstones which
Are cold as eyeballs in a flooded ditch;
In no such goblin smithy are you bruised.
I do not glaze a lantern like a shell
Inset with stars, nor make you visible
Through jewelled arabesques which adhere to
clothe
The outline of your soul; I am content
To leave you an uncaptured element;
Water, or light, or air that’s stained by both
[58]E A V E R UP
Benvenuto*s Valentine
Not for theffiild that wanders home
So wasted by barbaric kings,
So wearied imperial Rome,
he wi^Rlasp my aordnsfitfings.
Not £pf	never fog?
And bfever ^^®e known by me,
Before ft$ print has left the sea.
And not for darling Harlequin
Bungling in stars of diamond.shape;
Nor Hamlet exquisite and thin
As mloSbeams in an inky cape.
a^dt ior thé lesgjad Jarest-born
Of Chivalry and VifiSsSMiom
Roland feâS knighted with a horn,
And Richard with a sprig of broom.BLACK ARMOUR
Not even for the man who climbed
A thousand miles to thrust a torch
Among forgotten fagots, rimed
By winter in an iron porch.
But for the thought, that wrought and planned
Such intricate and crystal things,
My kiss is set upon your hand
As softly as a silver ring’s.
[60]BEAVER UP
Twelfth Night
It has always been King Herod that I feared;
King Herod and his kinsmen, ever since. . . .
I do not like the colour of your beard;
I think that you are wicked, and a prince.
I keep no stable . .. how your horses stamp! . ..
If you are wise men, you will leave me soon;
I have been frightened by a thievish tramp
Who counted bloody silver in the moon.
You get no lodging underneath these roofs,
No, though you pay in frankincense and
myrrh;
Your harness jangles with your horses’ hooves;
Be quiet; you will wake him if you stir.
This is no church for Zoroastrians,
Nor resting-place for governors from Rome;
Oh, I have knowledge of your secret plans;
Your faces are familiar; go home.
■BLACK ARMOUR
And you, young captain of the lion stare,
Subdue your arrogance to this advice;
You should forbid your soldiery to swear,
To spit at felons, and to play at dice.
You have perceived, above the chimney ledge,
Hanging inverted by Saint David’s harp,
His sword from heaven, with the double edge
Which, for your service, is no longer sharp.
He sleepsi like some ingenuous shepherd boy
Or carpenter’s apprentice, but his slim
And wounded hands shall never more destroy
Another giant; do not waken him.
The counterpane conceals the deeper wound
Which lately I have washed with vinegar;
Now let this iron bar be importuned;
I say you shall not speak to him of war.
[62]V: PLUMESNow That Your Eyes Are Shut
Now that you^^Hare shut
Not even a dusty butie^y^may brush them;
My flickering knife hasicut
Life from sonorous liontthroats to hush them.
If pigeons croon too iwfd
Op ^jlmbs blegBTppEiudlv. they must come to
And I command cach cloqd
To be precise infipillingj^lent water.
Let light forbear those ^s;
I have forbidden the feathery ash to smutch,
them;
The spider thread that thrids
The gray-plumed g$& has not my leave to
touch them.
[65]BLACK ARMOUR
My casual ghost
Issuing tiptoe, from the pure inhuman;
The
WgE&ng« your eyelids, while I am a woman.
[66]PLUMES
Lilliputian
She hoards green cnSeses
On ajjg^mmoonligHi shelf;
Her Ka-kettle freezes;
an elf.
Her ffiny mind is peopled
By bjjffcfioh 1 ins, but
andppeepled
The |)T|£e*is XUliputK
Where I lie toulidln subtly
Spider-web and hair,
And the smaljfeet scuttle,
And the goldEye^tare.
[67]BLACK ARMOUR
Parting Gift
I cannot give you the Metropolitan Tower;
I cannot give you heaven;
Nor the nine Visigoth crowns in the Cluny
Museum;
Nor happiness, even.
But I can give you a very small purse
Made out of field-mouse skin,
With a painted picture of the universe
And seven blue tears therein.
I cannot give you the island of Capri;
I cannot give you beauty;
Nor bake you marvelous crusty cherry pies
With love and duty.
But I can give you a very little locket
Made out of wildcat hide:
Put it into your left-hand pocket
And never look inside.
[68]PLUMES
Francie*s Fingers
“Oh, Francie, sell me your fingers
And I will pay you well!”
Sweet flowed that voice, the singer’s,
As gillyflowers smell.
“Your fingers are a witch’s,
White as china clay,
Thin as willow switches
Pointed up to pray.
“For your dinted knuckles
And blue printed wrist
I’ll give you my buckles
Of paste and amethyst.”
“I will sell my fingers
If you will sell your tongue;
Your voice is a singer’s
Whose veins run song.
[69]BLACK ARMOUR
“If apples sprang from heaven
Instead of from the ground,
Their juice could not even
Be sweet as that sound.”
“Oh, sell your smallest finger!”
“Your voice is all I fancy!”
“No, no!” replied the singer.
“Oh, no, no!” cried Francie.
[70]PLUMES
Beware!
To Baba, Playing a Nocturne by Chopin
Baba flourishes and dips,
Little ge.str^s*pfijts]?and gleaflft}
; Kow her Sdhy finger-tipsij
Strike the surface of the stream.
Now she plurfges both her wrists
In the wa™ blue as air,
Cur<Bmg ^ffs^arry mists,
Diapered with lighlHes^air.
Deep above the drownin&ga^ffl
Sorrow like a moon is drowned;
Baba, only dip your hands
In the surface of the sound.
[71]BLACK ARMOUR
Gifts at Meeting
From the Greek
Violets, sparsely
Budded, to wreathe
With spring of parsley;
A kid to seethe
In its. own juices
Dilute with wine;
Sweetmeats from cruises
T ranspontine;
A/isapling, studded
With apricocks,
Cream, new-crudded,
Butter in"rocks;
A barrel of tunny,
A barley bun;
Combs of honey
That smell like the sun:
Plaited withies
[72]PLUMES
Piled with white grapes;
From Persian smithies
Smooth dagger-shapes;
Cups of lapis""
And mirrors of bronze;
Springes, to trap us
Geese and swans;
A wild deer’s haunches
And a lion’s head;
Coral branches
Silver and red;
A pirate’s earring
And a painted book,
I bring you, fearing
Your blackthorn crook.
[73]BLACK ARMOUR
To Aphrodite, with a Talisman
This graven charm, that leads a girl unkissed
From bridal-bed; that knows to draw a man
Far over-seas; carved out of amethyst,
Chased with fine gold; accept, O Cyprian!
See where it lies, translucent, beautiful:
Oh, take it for your very own! andHee
How it is bound with violet-coloured wool,
Gift of a sorceress from Thessaly.
[74]PLUMES
To a Blackbird Singing
Marcus Argentarius
Where the poisonous mistletoe
Over the oak her magic weaves,
Sing no more, O blackbird! go
To safer shade of silver leaves.
Sing, and set your little foot
On golden grape and silver vine:
The Wine-God loves your song: the fruit
Will cool your lovely throat with wine.
[75]BLACK ARMOUR
On a Singing Girl
M usa of the sea-blue eyes,
Silver nightingale, alone
In a little coffin lies:
A stone beneath a stone.
She, whose song we loved the best,
Is voiceless in a sudden night:
On your light limbs* O loveliest,
May the dust be light!
[76]PLUMES
To Claudia Homonoea
My words were delicately breathed
As Syren notes: the Cyprian’s head
Never shone out more golden-wreathed
Than mine: but now I lie here dead.
A chattering swallow, bright and wild,
Whom one man loved for all her years -
Having loved her even as a child :
I leave him nothing but his tears.
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fUNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
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