I I J I I i i I j i j I I -.i.Id i... i,.1 i; p.I I I I THE CYIFT OF Yx, Ned Jones Wimmw -li ? 2.? + 2. 3 "? 14 I I I 0 SUNSET GUN Poems I SUNSET GUN Poems by DOROTHY PARKER, e NEW YORK HORACE LIVERIGHT I928 Copyright * 1928 * by HORACE LIVERIGHT- INC Printed in the United States First printing June, 1928 Second printing, June, 1928 Third printing, July, 1928 Fourth Printing, October, 1928 FOR JOHN I The verses in this book were first printed in the Bookman, the New Republic, the Nation, the New Yorker, Life, McCall's magazine, the Yale Review, the New York World, and the New York Post. I Contents PAGE GoDmYonazR, 13 PA.RTIAL COMFORT.14 THE RED DREss.....................15 VICTORIA........................6 THE COUNSELLOR....................17 PARABLE FOR. A CERTAIN VIRGIN..............18 BRIC-.1-BRAC......................20 INTERIO.0........................21 REuBEN7's CHILREN...................22 FoR. R.C.B.......................23 THERE WAS ONE....................24 ON CHEATING THE FIDDLER...............26 INCU-RABLE.......................27 FABLE.........................28 THE SECOND OLDEST STORY................29 A PIG'S-EYE Vi~w OF LITERATURE Ile Lives and Times of John Keats, Percy Bysshe Shelley and George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron........30 Oscar Wilde.....................30 Harriet Beecher Stowe................30 D. G. iRossetti....................31 Thomas Carlyle....................31 Charles Dickens...................31 Alexandre Dumas and His Son.............31 Alfred Lord Tennyson.................31 George Gissing....................3Z Walter Savage Landor.................32 George Sand.....................32 MORTAL ENEMY.....................33 PENELOPE...........................34 BOHEMIA...........................35 THE SEARCHED SOUL.....................36 THfE TRUSTINfG HEART....................3 THOUGHT FOR, A SU&SHEINY MORNING.... 38 E ix ] THE GENTLEST LADY...... 39 THE MAID-SERVANT AT THE INN...... 40 FULFILME NT............... 41 DAYLIGHT SAVING............. 42 SURPRISE................ 43 SWAN SONG............... 44 ON BEING A WOMAN............ 45 AFTERNOON............... 46 A DREA LIES DEAD...........47 THE HOMEBODY............ 48 SECOND LOVE............... 49 FAIR WEATHER..............50 THE WHISTLING GIRL............ 51 STORY................. 52 FRUSTRATION.............. 53 HEALED................ 54 LANDSCAPE................ 55 POST-GRADUATE.............. 56 VERSES IN THE NIGHT Honeymoon.............. 57 Triolet................ 58 Melange for the Unknown George....... 59 LIEBESTOD............... 60 FOR A FAVORITE GRAND-DAUGHTER........ 62 DILEMMA................ 63 THEORY.................64 A FAIRLY SAD TALE............65 THE LAST QUESTION............ 66 SUPERFLUOUS ADVICE.........67 DIRECTIONS FOR FINDING THE BARD......... 68 BUT NOT FORGOTTEN........... 69 TWO-VOLUME NOVEL........... 70 POUR PRENDRE CONGE............ 71 FOR A LADY WHO MUST WRITE VERSE...... 72 RHYME AGAINST LIVING........... 73 WISDOM................ 74 CODA................. 75 C SUNSET GUN Poems I Godmother T HE day that I was christenedIt's a hundred years, and more!A hag came and listened At the white church door, A-hearing her that bore me And all my kith and kin Considerately, for me, Renouncing sin. While some gave me corals, And some gave me gold, And porringers, with morals Agreeably scrolled, The hag stood, buckled In a dim gray cloak; Stood there and chuckled, Spat, and spoke: "There's few enough in life'll Be needing my help, But I've got a trifle For your fine young whelp. I give her sadness, And the gift of pain, The new-moon madness, And the love of rain." And little good to lave me In their holy silver bowl After what she gave meRest her soul! C113 Partial Comfort W HOSE love is given over-well Shall look on Helen's face in hell, Whilst they whose love is thin and wise May view John Knox in paradise. 141 The Red Dress I ALWAYS saw, I always said If I were grown and free, I'd have a gown of reddest red As fine as you could see, To wear out walking, sleek and slow, Upon a Summer day, And there'd be one to see me so, And flip the world away. And he would be a gallant one, With stars behind his eyes, And hair like metal in the sun, And lips too warm for lies. I always saw us, gay and good, High honored in the town. Now I am grown to womanhood.... I have the silly gown. Victoria DEAR dead Victoria Rotted cosily; In excelsis gloria, And R. I. P. And her shroud was buttoned neat, And her bones were clean and round, And her soul was at her feet Like a bishop's marble hound. Albert lay a-drying, Lavishly arrayed, With his soul out flying Where his heart had stayed. And there's some could tell you what land His spirit walks serene (But I've heard them say in Scotland It's never been seen). r 16] The Counsellor I MET a man, the other dayA kindly man, and seriousWho viewed me in a thoughtful way, And spoke me so, and spoke me thus: "Oh, dallying's a sad mistake; 'Tis craven to survey the morrow! Go give your heart, and if it breakA wise companion is Sorrow. "Oh, live, my child, nor keep your soul To crowd your coffin when you're dead.". I asked his work; he dealt in coal, And shipped it up the Tyne, he said. 1 17 ) / Parable for a Certain Virgin OH, ponder, friend, the porcupine; Refresh your recollection, And sit a moment, to define His means of self-protection. How truly fortified is he! Where is the beast his double In forethought of emergency And readiness for trouble? Recall his figure, and his shadeHow deftly planned and clearly For slithering through the dappled glade Unseen, or pretty nearly. Yet should an alien eye discern His presence in the woodland, How little has he left to learn Of self-defense! My good land! For he can run, as swift as sound, To where his goose may hang high; Or thrust his head against the ground And tunnel half to Shanghai; Or he can climb the dizziest boughUnhesitant, mechanicAnd, resting, dash from off his brow The bitter beads of panic; Es18 Or should pursuers press him hot, One scarcely needs to mention His quick and cruel barbs, that got Shakespearean attention; Or driven to his final ditch, To his extremest thicket, He'll fight with claws and molars (which Is not considered cricket). How amply armored, he, to fend The fear of chase that haunts him! How well prepared our little friend!And who the devil wants him? 19 Bric-a-brac ITTLE things that no one needs Little things to joke aboutLittle landscapes, done in beads, Little morals, woven out, Little wreaths of gilded grass, Little brigs of whittled oak Bottled painfully in glass; These are made by lonely folk. Lonely folk have lines of days Long and faltering and thin; Therefore-little wax bouquets, Prayers cut upon a pin, Little maps of pinkish lands, Little charts of curly seas, Little plats of linen strands, Little verses, such as these. I 203 Interior HER mind lives in a quiet room, A narrow room, and tall, With pretty lamps to quench the gloom And mottoes on the wall. There all the things are waxen neat And set in decorous lines; And there are posies, round and sweet, And little, straightened vines. Her mind lives tidily, apart From cold and noise and pain, And bolts the door against her heart, Out wailing in the rain. Cr 211 Reuben's Children ACCURSED from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bedI think they would be better dead. 22 For R. C. B. FE comes a-hurrying, Or life lags slow; But you've stopped worryingLet it go! Some call it gloomy, Some call it jake; They're very little to meLet them eat cake! Some find it fair, Some think it hooey, Many people care; But we don't, do we? 123 1 There Was One T HERE was one a-riding grand On a tall brown mare, And a fine gold band He brought me there. A little, gold band He held to me That would shine on a hand For the world to see. There was one a-walking swift To a little, new song, And a rose was the gift He carried along. First of all the posies, Dewy and red. They that have roses Never need bread. There was one with a swagger And a soft, slow tongue, And a bright, cold dagger Where his left hand swungCarven and gilt, Old and badAnd his stroking of the hilt Set a girl mad. L 24 ] There was one a-riding grand As he rode from me. And he raised his golden band And he threw it in the sea. There was one a-walking slow To a sad, long sigh. And his rose drooped low, And he flung it down to die. There was one with a swagger And a little, sharp pride, And a bright, cold dagger Ever at his side. At his side it stayed When he ran to part. What is this blade Struck through my heart? r 25 ] On Cheating the Fiddler "T HEN we will have to-night!" we said. "To-morrow-may we not be dead?" The morrow touched our eyes; and found Us walking firm above the ground, Our pulses quick, our blood alight. To-morrow's gone-we'll have to-night! E1261 Incurable A ND if my heart be scarred and burned, The safer, I, for all I learned; The calmer, I, to see it true That ways of love are never newThe love that sets you daft and dazed Is every love that ever blazed; The happier, I, to fathom this: A kiss is every other kiss. The reckless vow, the lovely name, When Helen walked, were spoke the same; The weighted breast, the grinding woe, When Phaon fled, were ever so. Oh, it is sure as it is sad That any lad is every lad, And what's a girl, to dare implore Her dear be hers forevermore? Though he be tried and he be bold, And swearing death should he be cold, He'll run the path the others went.... But you, my sweet, are different. 1t27 Fable OH, there once was a lady, and so I've been told, Whose lover grew weary, whose lover grew cold. "My child," he remarked, "though our episode ends, In the manner of men, I suggest we be friends." And the truest of friends ever after they were Oh, they lied in their teeth when they told me of her! [ 28 ] The Second Oldest Story GO I must along my ways X Though my heart be ragged, Dripping bitter through the days, Festering, and jagged. Smile I must at every twinge, Kiss, to time its throbbing; He that tears a heart to fringe Hates the noise of sobbing. Weep, my love, till Heaven hears; Curse and moan and languish. While I wash your wound with tears, Ease aloud your anguish. Bellow of the pit in Hell Where you're made to linger. There and there and well and wellDid he prick his finger! E291 A PIG'S-EYE VIEW OF LITERATURE The Lives and Times of John Keats, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron B YRON and Shelley and Keats Were a trio of lyrical treats. The forehead of Shelley was cluttered with curls, And Keats never was a descendant of earls, And Byron walked out with a number of girls, But it didn't impair the poetical feats Of Byron and Shelley, Of Byron and Shelley, Of Byron and Shelley and Keats. Oscar Wilde IF, with the literate, I am Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit; We all assume that Oscar said it. Harriet Beecher Stowe T HE pure and worthy Mrs. Stowe Is one we all are proud to know As mother, wife, and authoress,Thank God I am content with less! E30] D. G. Rossetti DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI Buried all of his libretti, Thought the matter over,-then Went and dug them up again. Thomas Carlyle ARLYLE combined the lit'ry life With throwing teacups at his wife, Remarking, rather testily, "Oh, stop your dodging, Mrs. C.!" Charles Dickens W HO call him spurious and shoddy Shall do it o'er my lifeless body. I heartily invite such birds To come outside and say those words! Alexandre Dumas and His Son AJ THOUGH I work, and seldom cease, lAt Dumas pere and Dumas fils, Alas, I cannot make me care For Dumas fils and Dumas pere. Alfred Lord Tennyson HOULD Heaven send me any son, I hope he's not like Tennyson. I'd rather have him play a fiddle Than rise and bow and speak an idyll. A31J George Gissing WHEN I admit neglect of Gissing, They say I don't know what I'm missing. Until their arguments are subtler, I think I'll stick to Samuel Butler. Walter Savage Landor U PON the work of Walter Landor I am unfit to write with candor. If you can read it, well and good; But as for me, I never could. George Sand W HAT time the gifted lady took Away from paper, pen, and book, She spent in amorous dalliance (They do those things so well in France). E1323 Mortal Enemy T another cross his wayShe's the one will do the weeping! Little need I fear he'll stray Since I have his heart in keeping. Let another hail him dearLittle chance that he'll forget me! Only need I curse and fear Her he loved before he met me. 331] Penelope IN the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the world and sky are one, He shall ride the silver seas, He shall cut the glittering wave. I shall sit at home, and rock; Rise, to heed a neighbor's knock; Brew my tea, and snip my thread; Bleach the linen for my bed. They will call him brave. r341 Bohemia AUTHORS and actors and artists and such Never know nothing, and never know much. Sculptors and singers and those of their kidney Tell their affairs from Seattle to Sydney. Playwrights and poets and such horses' necks Start off from anywhere, end up at sex. Diarists, critics, and similar roe Never say nothing, and never say no. People Who Do Things exceed my endurance; God, for a man that solicits insurance! I3S The Searched Soul WHEN I consider, pro and con, What things my love is built uponA curly mouth; a sinewed wrist; A questioning brow; a pretty twist Of words as old and tried as sin; A pointed ear; a cloven chin; Long, tapered limbs; and slanted eyes Not cold nor kind nor darkly wiseWhen so I ponder, here apart, What shallow boons suffice my heart, What dust-bound trivia capture me, I marvel at my normalcy.:386 The Trusting Heart OH, I'd been better dying, Oh, I was slow and sad; A fool I was, a-crying About a cruel lad! But there was one that found me, That wept to see me weep, And had his arm around me, And gave me words to keep. And I'd be better dying, And I am slow and sad; A fool I am, a-crying About a tender lad! 37 1 Thought for a Sunshiny Morning IT costs me never a stab nor squirm To tread by chance upon a worm. "Aha, my little dear," I say, "Your clan will pay me back one day." 1381 The Gentlest Lady THEY say He was a serious child, And quiet in his ways; They say the gentlest lady smiled To hear the neighbors' praise. The coffers of her heart would close Upon their smallest word. Yet did they say, "How tall He grows!" They thought she had not heard. They say upon His birthday eve She'd rock Him to His rest As if she could not have Him leave The shelter of her breast. The poor must go in bitter thrift, The poor must give in pain, But ever did she set a gift To greet His day again. They say she'd kiss the boy awake, And hail Him gay and clear, But oh, her heart was like to break To count another year. E 39 3 The Maid-Servant at the Inn T'S queer," she said, "I see the light As plain as I beheld it then, All silver-like and calm and brightWe've not had stars like that again! "And she was such a gentle thing To birth a baby in the cold. The barn was dark and frighteningThis new one's better than the old. "I mind my eyes were full of tears, For I was young, and quick distressed, But she was less than me in years That held a son against her breast. "I never saw a sweeter childThe little one, the darling one!I mind I told her, when he smiled Yoa'd know he was his mother's son. "It's queer that I should see them soThe time they came to Bethlehem Was more than thirty years ago; I've prayed that all is well with them." [40 ] Fulfilment FOR this my mother wrapped me warm, And called me home against the storm, And coaxed my infant nights to quiet, And gave me roughage in my diet, And tucked me in my bed at eight, And clipped my hair, and marked my weight, And watched me as I sat and stood: That I might grow to womanhood To hear a whistle and drop my wits And break my heart to clattering bits. [ 41 1 Daylight Saving Y answers are inadequate To those demanding day and date, And ever set a tiny shock Through strangers asking what's o'clock; Whose days are spent in whittling rhymeWhat's time to her, or she to Time? 4241 Surprise MY heart went fluttering with fear Lest you should go, and leave me here To beat my breast and rock my head And stretch me sleepless on my bed. Ah, clear they see and true they say That one shall weep, and one shall stray For such is Love's unvarying law... I never thought, I never saw That I should be the first to go; How pleasant that it happened so! 1 43 1 Swan Song FIRST you are hot, Then you are cold; And the best you have got Is the fact you are old. Labor and hoard, Worry and wed, And the biggest reward Is to die in bed. A long time to sweat, A little while to shiver; It's all you'll getWhere's the nearest river? 1 44:i On Being a Woman WHY is it, when I am in Rome I'd give an eye to be at home, But when on native earth I be, My soul is sick for Italy? And why with you, my love, my lord, Am I spectacularly bored, Yet do you up and leave me-then I scream to have you back again? u45: Afternoon WHEN I am old, and comforted, And done with this desire, With Memory to share my bed And Peace to share my fire, I'll comb my hair in scalloped bands Beneath my laundered cap, And watch my cool and fragile hands Lie light upon my lap. And I will have a sprigged gown With lace to kiss my throat; I'll draw my curtain to the town, And hum a purring note. And I'll forget the way of tears, And rock, and stir my tea. But oh, I wish those blessed years Were further than they be! 461 A Dream Lies Dead A DREAM lies dead here. May you softly go Before this place, and turn away your eyes, Nor seek to know the look of that which dies Importuning Life for life. Walk not in woe, But, for a little, let your step be slow. And, of your mercy, be not sweetly wise With words of hope and Spring and tenderer skies. A dream lies dead; and this all mourners know: Whenever one drifted petal leaves the treeThough white of bloom as it had been before And proudly waitful of fecundityOne little loveliness can be no more; And so must Beauty bow her imperfect head Because a dream has joined the wistful dead!: 47 _ The Homebody THERE still are kindly things for me to know, Who am afraid to dream, afraid to feelThis little chair of scrubbed and sturdy deal, This easy book, this fire, sedate and slow. And I shall stay with them, nor cry the woe Of wounds across my breast that do not heal; Nor wish that Beauty drew a duller steel, Since I am sworn to meet her as a foe. It may be, when the devil's own time is done, That I shall hear the dropping of the rain At midnight, and lie quiet in my bed; Or stretch and straighten to the yellow sun; Or face the turning tree, and have no pain; So shall I learn at last my heart is dead. 48 3 Second Love 4C O surely is she mine," you say, and turn Your quick and steady mind to harder thingsTo bills and bonds and talk of what men earnAnd whistle up the stair, of evenings. And do you see a dream behind my eyes, Or ask a simple question twice of me"Thus women are," you say; for men are wise And tolerant, in their security. How shall I count the midnights I have known When calm you turn to me, nor feel me start, To find my easy lips upon your own And know my breast beneath your rhythmic heart. Your god defer the day I tell you this: My lad, my lad, it is not you I kiss! r49J Fair Weather T HIS level reach of blue is not my sea; Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun, Whose quiet ripples meet obediently A marked and measured line, one after one. This is no sea of mine, that humbly laves Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm. I have a need of wilder, crueler waves; They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm. So let a love beat over me again, Loosing its million desperate breakers wide; Sudden and terrible to rise and wane; Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide That casts upon the heart, as it recedes, Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds. ri50 The Whistling Girl BACK of my back, they talk of me, Gabble and honk and hiss; Let them batten, and let them beMe, I can sing them this: "Better to shiver beneath the stars, Head on a faithless breast, Than peer at the night through rusted bars, And share an irksome rest. "Better to see the dawn come up, Along of a trifling one, Than set a steady man's cloth and cup And pray the day be done. "Better be left by twenty dears Than lie in a loveless bed; Better a loaf that's wet with tears Than cold, unsalted bread." Back of my back, they wag their chins, Whinny and bleat and sigh; But better a heart a-bloom with sins Than hearts gone yellow and dry! 1 5 1 Story " AND if he's gone away," said she, A "Good riddance, if you're asking me. I'm not a one to lie awake And weep for anybody's sake. There's better lads than him about! I'll wear my buckled slippers out A-dancing till the break of day. I'm better off with him away! And if he never come," said she, "Now what on earth is that to me? I wouldn't have him back!" I hope Her mother washed her mouth with soap. V52 J Frustration IF I had a shiny gun I could have a world of fun Speeding bullets through the brains Of the folk who give me pains Or had I some poison gas I could make the moments pass Bumping off a number of People whom I do not love. But I have no lethal weaponThus does Fate our pleasure step on! So they still are quick and well Who should be, by rights, in hell. 1531 Healed O H, when I flung my heart away, The year was at its fall. I saw my dear, the other day, Beside a flowering wall; And this was all I had to say: "I thought that he was tall!" 541 Landscape NOW this must be the sweetest place From here to Heaven's end; The field is white with flowering lace, The birches leap and bend, The hills, beneath the roving sun, From green to purple pass, And little, trifling breezes run Their fingers through the grass. So good it is, so gay it is, So calm it is, and pure, A one whose eyes may look on this Must be the happier, sure. But me-I see it flat and gray And blurred with misery, Because a lad a mile away Has little need of me. C 55 1 Post-Graduate HOPE it was that tutored me, And Love that taught me more; And now I learn at Sorrow's knee The self-same lore. E 56 1 VERSES IN THE NIGHT (After an Evening Spent in Reading the Big Boys) Honeymoon "ponder, darling, these busted statues of yon moth-eaten forum be aware." -E. E. Cummings. pONDER, darling, these busted statues, Be aware of the forum, sweet; Feel the centuries tearing at youseDon't keep asking me when we eat! Look, my love, where the hills hang drowsy; Caesar watched them, a-wondering, here. Get yon goddesses, chipped and lousyDon't be trying to bite my ear! Child, consider the clouds above you, Soft and silly, like baby goatsDon't keep asking me don't I love you! Judas! When will you know your oats? 857 Triolet "Her teeth were only accidental stars with a talent fo' squad drill." -T. S. Eliot. H ER teeth were accidental stars With a talent for squad drill; The Pleiades, Orion, MarsHer teeth were accidental stars, Assured celestial corporal's bars, So straight they stood, and still. Her teeth were accidental stars With a talent for squad drill. C 58 Melange for the Unknown George "George is a lion.... There is no pope." -Gertrude Stein. G EORGE is a lion; X1 There is no pope; Death is the scion Of the house of Hope. George is a gazelle; There is no Freud; Charles Parnell Looked like Ernest Boyd. George is a llama; There is no stork; Papa loves Mama Like Jews love pork. There's no Frances NewmanIn a pig's right eye! Death is as human As a mandrake's cry. George is a racoon; he Insists there is art. Little Annie Rooney Is my sweetheart. E 591 Liebestod WHEN I was bold, when I was boldAnd that's a hundred years!Oh, never I thought my breast could hold The terrible weight of tears. I said: "Now some be dolorous; I hear them wail and sigh, And if it be Love that play them thus, Then never a love will I." I said: "I see them rack and rue, I see them wring and ache, And little I'll crack my heart in two With little the heart can break." When I was gay, when I was gayIt's ninety years and nine!Oh, never I thought that Death could lay His terrible hand in mine. I said: "He plies his trade among The musty and infirm, A body so hard and bright and young Could never be meat for worm." "I see him dull their eyes," I said, "And still their rattling breath. And how under God could I be dead That never was meant for Death?" EC60] But Love came by, to quench my sleep, And here's my sundered heart; And bitter's my woe, and black, and deep, And little I guessed a part. Yet this there is to cool my breast, And this to ease my spell; Now if I were Love's, like all the rest, Then can I be Death's, as well. And he shall have me, sworn and bound, And I'll be done with Love. And better I'll be below the ground Than ever I'll be above. 1: 61 3 For a Favorite Grand-daughter NEVER love a simple lad, Guard against a wise, Shun a timid youth and sad, Hide from haunted eyes. Never hold your heart in pain For an evil-doer; Never flip it down the lane To a gifted wooer. Never love a loving son, Nor a sheep astray; Gather up your skirts and run From a tender way. Never give away a tear, Never toss and pine; Should you heed my words, my dear, You're no blood of mine! r 62 1 Dilemma IF I were mild and I were sweet, And laid my heart before your feet, And took my dearest thoughts to you, And hailed your easy lies as true; Were I to murmur "Yes," and then "How true, my dear," and "Yes," again, And wear my eyes discreetly down, And tremble whitely at your frown, And keep my words unquestioningMy love, you'd run like anything! Should I be frail, and I be mad, And share my heart with every lad, But beat my head against the floor What times you wandered past my door; Were I to doubt, and I to sneer, And shriek "Farewell!" and still be here, And break your joy, and quench your trustI should not see you for the dust! C63 J Theory INTO love and out again, Thus I went, and thus I go. Spare your voice, and hold your penWell and bitterly I know All the songs were ever sung, All the words were ever said; Could it be, when I was young, Some one dropped me on my head? 1:64 A Fairly Sad Tale I THINK that I shall never know Why I am thus, and I am so. Around me, other girls inspire In men the rush and roar of fire, The sweet transparency of glass, The tenderness of April grass, The durability of granite; But me-I don't know how to plan it. The lads I've met in Cupid's deadlock Were-shall we say?-born out of wedlock. They broke my heart, they stilled my song, And said they had to run along, Explaining, so to sop my tears, First came their parents or careers. But ever does experience Deny me wisdom, calm, and sense! Though she's a fool who seeks to capture The twenty-first fine, careless rapture, I must go on, till ends my rope, Who from my birth was cursed with hope. A heart in half is chaste, archaic; But mine resembles a mosaicThe thing's become ridiculous! Why am I so? Why am I thus? The Last Question NEW love, new love, where are you to lead me? All along a narrow way that marks a crooked line. How are you to slake me, and how are you to feed me? With bitter yellow berries, and a sharp new wine. New love, new love, shall I be forsaken? One shall go a-wandering, and one of us must sigh. Sweet it is to slumber, but how shall we awakenWhose will be the broken heart, when dawn comes by? 1661 Superfluous Advice SHOULD they whisper false of you, Never trouble to deny; Should the words they say be true, Weep and storm and swear they lie. 1 671 Directions for Finding the Bard WOULD you see what I'm like, W This is what to do: Drowse and take your time, like Camels in a zoo. Sit you where you are, son; Rest you where you lie; I am never far, son,I'll be coming by. Watch for Trouble, walking All along his course, Stepping high and stalking Like a funeral horse. See his little friend, there, Knee beside his knee; There's your search's end, there,That'll be me! Would you want to see me, This is what to try: Stretch you, sweet and dreamy, Looking at the sky. Watch for Gloom, a-wheeling Black across the sun, Gibbering and squealingAll the crows in one. See a little speck, there, Side against his side, Sticking at his neck, there; Going for the ride; Dropping, does he drop, son; Looping with him, maybe. Let your seeking stop, son,That'll be Baby! 1 68 1 But Not Forgotten THINK, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon f6rget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head, Nor all the tremulous things I said. You still will see me, small and white And smiling, in the secret night, And feel my arms about you when The day comes fluttering back again. I think, no matter where you be, You'll hold me in your memory And keep my image, there without me, By telling later loves about me. 1 69 J Two-volume Novel THE sun's gone dim, and The moon's turned black; For I loved him, and He didn't love back. r 701 Pour Prendre Conge' I 'M sick of embarking in dories Upon an emotional sea. I'm wearied of playing Dolores (A role never written for me). I'll never again like a cub lick My wounds while I squeal at the hurt. No more I'll go walking in public, My heart hanging out of my shirt. I'm tired of entwining me garlands Of weather-worn hemlock and bay. I'm over my longing for far landsI wouldn't give that for Cathay. I'm through with performing the ballet Of love unrequited and told. Euterpe, I tender you vale; Good-bye, and take care of that cold. I'm done with this burning and giving And reeling the rhymes of my woes. And how I'll be making my living, The Lord in His mystery knows. [ 71 J For a Lady Who Must Write Verse UNTO seventy years and seven, Hide your double birthright wellYou, that are the brat of Heaven And the pampered heir to Hell. Let your rhymes be tinsel treasures, Strung and seen and thrown aside. Drill your apt and docile measures Sternly as you drill your pride. Show your quick, alarming skill in Tidy mockeries of art; Never, never dip your quill in Ink that rushes from your heart. When your pain must come to paper, See it dust, before the day; Let your night-light curl and caper, Let it lick the words away. Never print, poor child, a lay on Love and tears and anguishing, Lest a cooled, benignant Phaon Murmur, "Silly little thing!" 1:72 1 Rhyme Against Living IF wild my breast and sore my pride, I bask in dreams of suicide; If cool my heart and high my head, I think, "How lucky are the dead!": 73] Wisdom TFHIS I say, and this I know: 1 Love has seen the last of me. Love's a trodden lane to woe, Love's a path to misery. This I know, and knew before, This I tell you, of my years: Hide your heart, and lock your door. Hell's afloat in lovers' tears. Give your heart, and toss and moan, What a pretty fool you look! I am sage, who sit alone; Here's my wool, and here's my book. Look! A lad's a-waiting there, Tall he is and bold, and gay. What the devil do I care What I know, and what I say? r 74 i Coda T HERE'S little in taking or giving, There's little in water or wine; This living, this living, this living Was never a project of mine. Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is The gain of the one at the top, For art is a form of catharsis, And love is a permanent flop, And work is the province of cattle, And rest's for a clam in a shell, So I'm thinking of throwing the battleWould you kindly direct me to hell? 1 75 1 4. 0.,. 0:. f..., 0;..0 4I. a I 4k _________~~-i --- _____ ________-L~hL —~ _________________________ _____ THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN DATE DUE NOV 9 1993 -; I i A: Idb~ (V ~ 9 19 - - - - - 4A 0 I.t 4 I LII 11 11 'd 9015 00054 0545?r 41 -~ UIN) b - j. - - P 01- a.,.. 7 I:. 4. - -4, k...1 i. - 4 .1 Iw '.."' NOV.- I Z P 37' r I lqlo,vl / r/ 7 1 / /1 -. - - -- I I ..... rz:H V