Shapes of Clay

Nor even the widows could be heard to weep.
One might have thought their shaking was but laughter;
And, truly, most were married shortly after.
Above the wreckage of that silent fray
Strange fishes swam in circles, round and round—
Black, double-finned; and once a little way
A bubble rose and burst without a sound
And a man tumbled out upon the ground.
Lord! 'twas an eerie thing to drift apace
On that pellucid sea, beneath black skies
And o'er the heads of an undrowning race;
And when I woke I said—to her surprise
Who came with chocolate, for me to drink it:
'The atmosphere is deeper than you think it.'

VISIONS OF SIN. KRASLAJORSK, SIBERIA, March 29.

  'My eyes are better, and I shall travel slowly toward home.'

    DANENHOWER.

  From the regions of the Night,
  Coming with recovered sight—
  From the spell of darkness free,
  What will Danenhower see?
  He will see when he arrives,
  Doctors taking human lives.
  He will see a learned judge
  Whose decision will not budge
  Till both litigants are fleeced
  And his palm is duly greased.
  Lawyers he will see who fight
  Day by day and night by night;
  Never both upon a side,
  Though their fees they still divide.
  Preachers he will see who teach
  That it is divine to preach—
  That they fan a sacred fire
  And are worthy of their hire.
  He will see a trusted wife
  (Pride of some good husband's life)
  Enter at a certain door
  And—but he will see no more.
  He will see Good Templars reel—
  See a prosecutor steal,
  And a father beat his child.
  He'll perhaps see Oscar Wilde.
  From the regions of the Night
  Coming with recovered sight—
  From the bliss of blindness free,
  That's what Danenhower'll see.
1882.

THE TOWN OF DAE.

  Swains and maidens, young and old,
  You to me this tale have told.
  Where the squalid town of Dae
  Irks the comfortable sea,
  Spreading webs to gather fish,
  As for wealth we set a wish,
  Dwelt a king by right divine,
  Sprung from Adam's royal line,
  Town of Dae by the sea,
  Divers kinds of kings there be.
  Name nor fame had Picklepip:
  Ne'er a soldier nor a ship
  Bore his banners in the sun;
  Naught knew he of kingly sport,
  And he held his royal court
  Under an inverted tun.
  Love and roses, ages through,
  Bloom where cot and trellis stand;
  Never yet these blossoms grew—
  Never yet was room for two—
    In a cask upon the strand.
  So it happened, as it ought,
  That his simple schemes he wrought
  Through the lagging summer's day
  In a solitary way.
  So it happened, as was best,
  That he took his nightly rest
    With no dreadful incubus
  This way eyed and that way tressed,
    Featured thus, and thus, and thus,
  Lying lead-like on a breast