The round green eyes and the long wavering bodies

Of the dark leopards of the moon?

All the wild witches those most noble ladies,

For all their broom-sticks and their tears,

Their angry tears, are gone.

The holy centaurs of the hills are banished;

And I have nothing but harsh sun;

Heroic mother moon has vanished,

And now that I have come to fifty years

I must endure the timid sun.

[40]

[40]

THE DAWN

I would be ignorant as the dawn

That has looked down

On that old queen measuring a town

With the pin of a brooch,

Or on the withered men that saw

From their pedantic Babylon

The careless planets in their courses,

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