Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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“THE CORPSE” (JOE). |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
“THE CORPSE” (JOE).
Here's an ugly phenomenon, friends,
And “The Corpse” is his singular name,
For he gains all his money and ends
By his ghastly cadaverous frame;
Sepulchral his face and his tones
And his front like a death's head is cast,
And he lives simply just in his bones
Like a wreck of the primitive past;
He looks dug like a fossil from graves,
While each breath is a battle
And his limbs seem to rattle
Like the fetters that clank upon slaves.
And “The Corpse” is his singular name,
For he gains all his money and ends
By his ghastly cadaverous frame;
Sepulchral his face and his tones
And his front like a death's head is cast,
And he lives simply just in his bones
Like a wreck of the primitive past;
He looks dug like a fossil from graves,
While each breath is a battle
And his limbs seem to rattle
Like the fetters that clank upon slaves.
In the dingiest nooks he is found
With the eyes deeply sunk in the skull,
As if strayed from some burial ground
With his gaze all so vacant and dull.
He is lean as the demon of dearth,
Through his ribs seems to whistle the gust,
He appears to arise from the earth
With a crumbling of clods and the dust.
Though he feasts by defying the laws
Yet he never grows fatter,
And his yellow teeth chatter
In his bloodless and terrible jaws.
With the eyes deeply sunk in the skull,
As if strayed from some burial ground
With his gaze all so vacant and dull.
He is lean as the demon of dearth,
Through his ribs seems to whistle the gust,
502
With a crumbling of clods and the dust.
Though he feasts by defying the laws
Yet he never grows fatter,
And his yellow teeth chatter
In his bloodless and terrible jaws.
For he cultivates pallor and knows
How to trade on his thinness and baulk
The most sceptical eye, till he shows
A dead body with lamp-black and chalk.
In the heat of the summer he shakes
And he shivers with merciless cold,
As he mumbles his falsehoods and makes
A grim horror—as fresh from the mould.
If unwatched, as he thinks, his gaunt cheek
Which he pinches and taxes
Into laughter relaxes,
When he pictures the pothouse to seek.
How to trade on his thinness and baulk
The most sceptical eye, till he shows
A dead body with lamp-black and chalk.
In the heat of the summer he shakes
And he shivers with merciless cold,
As he mumbles his falsehoods and makes
A grim horror—as fresh from the mould.
If unwatched, as he thinks, his gaunt cheek
Which he pinches and taxes
Into laughter relaxes,
When he pictures the pothouse to seek.
He is faithful, wan Joe, to his views
Of a living and honest and hard,
And the bye-ways of thieving eschews
While he plays his one skeleton card.
At the corners he lurks on the prowl
For the dupe of the innocent face,
With mortality writ on his jowl
And the print of the earth-worm's embrace.
He's consumptive, rheumatic, and queer
With suspicion of cancer,
And all ailments that answer
And at last are converted to beer.
Of a living and honest and hard,
And the bye-ways of thieving eschews
While he plays his one skeleton card.
At the corners he lurks on the prowl
For the dupe of the innocent face,
With mortality writ on his jowl
And the print of the earth-worm's embrace.
He's consumptive, rheumatic, and queer
With suspicion of cancer,
And all ailments that answer
And at last are converted to beer.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |