Classic Poem

12

Now that the summer only seems the sad
Mechanical dull action of the light
And shadow playing over a dead world —
Dead as my heart — it seems too long ago
For the remembrance of the beauty and the world we used to know;

When the warm lights of afternoon were mellow
As honeyed yellow pears, the Princess played
At Troy Town in the palace garden, tossed
And through the smiling leaves of summer lost
A round compact gold ball, the smaller image
Of this hard world, grown dry of any love —
Or walked upon the shore, watched the fantastic
Arabesque, the horsemanship of waves.
" Mademoiselle Fantoche, where do they go?"
A faint cold wind replied, " I do not know."