NEW POEMS
And ever, vexed with heat and doubt,
Below the burthen of their shawls,
The still grey olives saw without
And glimmer of white garden walls,
Between the alternate curtain falls.
What ailed the dainty lady then,
The dainty lady, fair and sweet?
Unseen of these three silent men,
A something lay upon her feet,
Not comely for such eyes to meet.
She saw a golden salver there
And, laid upon it, on the bed,
The white teeth showing keen and bare
Between the sundered lips, a head
Sallow and horrible and dead.
She saw upon the sallow cheek
Rust-coloured blood-stains; and the eye
Her frightened glances seemed to seek
Half-lifting its blue lid on high,
Watching her, horrible and sly.
Thus spake she: "Once again that head!
"I ate too much pilau to-night,
"My mother and the eunuchs said.
"Well, I can take a hint aright—
"To-morrow's supper shall be light."
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