POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
Where the sense shudders, witless and adaze,
In a white void with neither depth nor height.
Within the black core of the pyramid,
Beneath the weight of sunless centuries,
Lapt in dead night King Cheops lies asleep
Yet in the darkness of his chamber hid
He knows no black oblivion more deep
Than that blind white oblivion of noon skies.
TENANTS
Suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways,
We came upon the little house asleep
In cold blind stillness shadowless and deep,
In the white magic of the full-moon blaze:
Strangers without the gate, we stood agaze,
Fearful to break that quiet and to creep
Into the home that had been ours to keep
Through a long year of happy nights and days.
So unfamiliar in the white moon-gleam,
So old and ghostly like a house of dream,
It stood, that over us there stole the dread
That even as we watched it, side by side,
The ghosts of lovers, who had lived and died
Within its walls, were sleeping in our bed.
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