 | The Poems and Plays of William Vaughn Moody |  |
152
MUSA MERETRIX
I turn the last leaf down, and lay
The flaunting rubbish in the grass;
With folded arms across my face
I shut the summer light away.
On him too the old trick to play!
Too dull, too base!
The flaunting rubbish in the grass;
With folded arms across my face
I shut the summer light away.
On him too the old trick to play!
Too dull, too base!
I see again his dream-worn hand
Shaken by my poor praise, his brow
Flushed by the words I scarce knew how
To speak at all, so shadowy grand
He stalked there in Song's lonely land,
Under the vow.
Shaken by my poor praise, his brow
Flushed by the words I scarce knew how
To speak at all, so shadowy grand
He stalked there in Song's lonely land,
Under the vow.
So rare a spirit, and if frail—
Curse thee! what should a spirit be
That ate not, drank not, save for thee?
Flat brothel-jestress, thing of sale,
On his head too to pour the stale
Indignity!
Curse thee! what should a spirit be
That ate not, drank not, save for thee?
Flat brothel-jestress, thing of sale,
On his head too to pour the stale
Indignity!
| The Poems and Plays of William Vaughn Moody | |