Low among the alders lie their derelict foundations,
The beams wherein they trusted and the plinths whereon
they built--
My rulers and their treasure and their unborn populations,
Dead, destroyed, aborted, and defiled with mud and
silt!
The Daughters of the Palace whom they cherished in
my Cities,
My silver-tongued Princesses, and the promise of their
May--
Their bridegrooms of the June-tide--all have perished
in my Cities,
With the harsh envenomed virgins that can neither
love nor play.
I was Lord of Cities--I will build anew my Cities,
Seven, set on rocks, above the wrath of any flood.
Nor will I rest from search till I have filled anew my Cities
With peoples undefeated of the dark, enduring blood.
To the sound of trumpets shall their seed restore my Cities.
Wealthy and well-weaponed, that once more may I behold
All the world go softly when it walks before my Cities,
And the horses and the chariots fleeing from them as of old!
'Swept and Garnished'
(January 1915)
When the first waves of feverish cold stole over Frau Ebermann she very
wisely telephoned for the doctor and went to bed. He diagnosed the
attack as mild influenza, prescribed the appropriate remedies, and left
her to the care of her one servant in her comfortable Berlin flat. Frau
Ebermann, beneath the thick coverlet, curled up with what patience she
could until the aspirin should begin to act, and Anna should come back
from the chemist with the formamint, the ammoniated quinine, the
eucalyptus, and the little tin steam-inhaler. Meantime, every bone in
her body ached; her head throbbed; her hot, dry hands would not stay the
same size for a minute together; and her body, tucked into the smallest
possible compass, shrank from the chill of the well-warmed sheets.
Of a sudden she noticed that an imitation-lace cover which should have
lain mathematically square with the imitation-marble top of the radiator
behind the green plush sofa had slipped away so that one corner hung
over the bronze-painted steam pipes. She recalled that she must have
rested her poor head against the radiator-top while she was taking off
her boots. She tried to get up and set the thing straight, but the
radiator at once receded toward the horizon, which, unlike true
horizons, slanted diagonally, exactly parallel with the dropped lace
edge of the cover. Frau Ebermann groaned through sticky lips and
lay still.
'Certainly, I have a temperature,' she said. 'Certainly, I have a grave
temperature. I should have been warned by that chill after dinner.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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