POETRY: A Magazine of Verse
From the theatre under the city's lights follows the girl,
Desperate lest in the city's curious chances
He never sees her again. And boldly he speaks.
And she and the elder woman, her sister
Smile and speak in turn; and Jim, who stands
While I break the ice, comes up—and so
Arm in arm we go to the restaurant,
I in heaven walking with Arabel,
And Jim with her older sister.
We drive them home under a summer moon,
And while I explain to Arabel my boldness,
And crave her pardon for it, Jim, the devil,
Laughs apart with her sister while I wonder
What Jim, the devil, is laughing at. No matter—
To-morrow I walk in the park with Arabel.
Just now the reader of the letter
Tells of the writer's swift descent
From wealth to want.
We are in the park next afternoon by the water.
I look at her white throat—full, as it were, of song
And her rounded virginal bosom—beautiful!
And I study her eyes, I search to the depths her eyes
In the light of the sun. They are full of little rays,
Like the edge of a fleur-de-lys, and she smiles
At first when I fling my soul at her feet.
[62]
