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〃That's a valuable thing you have there；
But it might get broken out of doors；
It should meet with the utmost care。
What are you doing with it out here？〃
〃Why； Sir；〃 said the poor old man；
〃I like to have it about； do you see？
To be with it all I can。〃
〃You will smash it；〃 said the schoolmaster； sternly right；
〃Mark my words and see！〃
And he walked away； while the old man looked
At his treasure despondingly。
Then he smiled to himself； for it was his！
He had toiled for it； and now he cared。
Yes！ loved its shape； and its subtle； swift hues；
Which his own hard work had bared。
He would carry it round with him everywhere；
As it gave him joy to do。
A fragile vase should not stand in a bean…row！
Who would dare to say so？ Who？
Then his heart was rested； and his fears gave way；
And he bent to his hoe again。 。 。 。
A clod rolled down； and his foot slipped back；
And he lurched with a cry of pain。
For the blade of the hoe crashed into glass；
And the vase fell to iridescent sherds。
The old man's body heaved with slow； dry sobs。
He did not curse； he had no words。
He gathered the fragments； one by one；
And his fingers were cut and torn。
Then he made a hole in the very place
Whence the beautiful vase had been borne。
He covered the hole； and he patted it down；
Then he hobbled to his house and shut the door。
He tore up his coat and nailed it at the windows
That no beam of light should cross the floor。
He sat down in front of the empty hearth；
And he neither ate nor drank。
In three days they found him； dead and cold；
And they said： 〃What a queer old crank！〃
The Foreigner
Have at you； you Devils！
My back's to this tree；
For you're nothing so nice
That the hind…side of me
Would escape your assault。
Come on now； all three！
Here's a dandified gentleman；
Rapier at point；
And a wrist which whirls round
Like a circular joint。
A spatter of blood； man！
That's just to anoint
And make supple your limbs。
'Tis a pity the silk
Of your waistcoat is stained。
Why！ Your heart's full of milk；
And so full； it spills over！
I'm not of your ilk。
You said so； and laughed
At my old…fashioned hose；
At the cut of my hair；
At the length of my nose。
To carve it to pattern
I think you propose。
Your pardon； young Sir；
But my nose and my sword
Are proving themselves
In quite perfect accord。
I grieve to have spotted
Your shirt。 On my word！
And hullo！ You Bully！
That blade's not a stick
To slash right and left；
And my skull is too thick
To be cleft with such cuffs
Of a sword。 Now a lick
Down the side of your face。
What a pretty； red line！
Tell the taverns that scar
Was an honour。 Don't whine
That a stranger has marked you。
* * * * *
The tree's there； You Swine！
Did you think to get in
At the back； while your friends
Made a little diversion
In front？ So it ends；
With your sword clattering down
On the ground。 'Tis amends
I make for your courteous
Reception of me；
A foreigner； landed
From over the sea。
Your welcome was fervent
I think you'll agree。
My shoes are not buckled
With gold； nor my hair
Oiled and scented； my jacket's
Not satin； I wear
Corded breeches； wide hats；
And I make people stare！
So I do； but my heart
Is the heart of a man；
And my thoughts cannot twirl
In the limited span
'Twixt my head and my heels；
As some other men's can。
I have business more strange
Than the shape of my boots；
And my interests range
From the sky； to the roots
Of this dung…hill you live in；
You half…rotted shoots
Of a mouldering tree！
Here's at you； once more。
You Apes！ You Jack…fools！
You can show me the door；
And jeer at my ways；
But you're pinked to the core。
And before I have done；
I will prick my name in
With the front of my steel；
And your lily…white skin
Shall be printed with me。
For I've come here to win！
Absence
My cup is empty to…night；
Cold and dry are its sides；
Chilled by the wind from the open window。
Empty and void； it sparkles white in the moonlight。
The room is filled with the strange scent
Of wistaria blossoms。
They sway in the moon's radiance
And tap against the wall。
But the cup of my heart is still；
And cold； and empty。
When you come； it brims
Red and trembling with blood；
Heart's blood for your drinking；
To fill your mouth with love
And the bitter…sweet taste of a soul。
A Gift
See！ I give myself to you； Beloved！
My words are little jars
For you to take and put upon a shelf。
Their shapes are quaint and beautiful；
And they have many pleasant colours and lustres
To recommend them。
Also the scent from them fills the room
With sweetness of flowers and crushed grasses。
When I shall have given you the last one；
You will have the whole of me；
But I shall be dead。
The Bungler
You glow in my heart
Like the flames of uncounted candles。
But when I go to warm my hands；
My clumsiness overturns the light；
And then I stumble
Against the tables and chairs。
Fool's Money Bags
Outside the long window；
With his head on the stone sill；
The dog is lying；
Gazing at his Beloved。
His eyes are wet and urgent；
And his body is taut and shaking。
It is cold on the terrace；
A pale wind licks along the stone slabs；
But the dog gazes through the glass
And is content。
The Beloved is writing a letter。
Occasionally she speaks to the dog；
But she is thinking of her writing。
Does she； too； give her devotion to one
Not worthy？
Miscast I
I have whetted my brain until it is like a Damascus blade；
So keen that it nicks off the floating fringes of passers…by；
So sharp that the air would turn its edge
Were it to be twisted in flight。
Licking passions have bitten their arabesques into it；
And the mark of them lies； in and out；
Worm…like；
With the beauty of corroded copper patterning white steel。
My brain is curved like a scimitar；
And sighs at its cutting
Like a sickle mowing grass。
But of what use is all this to me！
I； who am set to crack stones
In a country lane！
Miscast II
My heart is like a cleft pomegranate
Bleeding crimson seeds
And dripping them on the ground。
My heart gapes because it is ripe and over…full；
And its seeds are bursting from it。
But how is this other than a torment to me！
I； who am shut up； with broken crockery；
In a dark closet！
Anticipation
I have been temperate always；
But I am like to be very drunk
With your coming。
There have been times
I feared to walk down the street
Lest I