Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/iposebenson00bens Transcriber’s note: Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). I POSE [Illustration] The Macmillan Company New York · Boston · Chicago · Dallas Atlanta · San Francisco Macmillan & Co., Limited London · Bombay · Calcutta Melbourne The Macmillan Co. Of Canada, Ltd. Toronto I POSE by STELLA BENSON New York The Macmillan Company 1916 All rights reserved Copyright 1916 by the Macmillan Company Set up and electrotyped. Published January, 1916. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ My eyes are girt with outer mists, My ears sing shrill—and this I bless, My finger-nails do bite my fists In ecstasy of loneliness. This I intend, and this I want,— That, passing, you may only mark A dumb soul and its confidante Entombed together in the dark. The hoarse church-bells of London ring, The hoarser horns of London croak, The poor brown lives of London cling About the poor brown streets like smoke; The deep air stands above my roof, Like water to the floating stars; My Friend and I—we sit aloof, We sit and smile, and bind our scars. For you may wound and you may kill— It’s such a little thing to die— Your cruel God may work his will, We do not care—my Friend and I,— Though, at the gate of Paradise, Peter the Saint withhold his keys, My Friend and I—we have no eyes For Heaven ... or Hell ... or dreams like these.... PREFACE Sometimes I pose, but sometimes I pose as posing. I POSE CHAPTER I There was once a gardener. Not only was, but in all probability is, for as far as I know you may meet him to this day. There are no death-bed scenes in this book. The gardener was not the sort of person to bring a novel to a graceful climax by dying finally in an atmosphere of elevated immorality. He was extremely thin, but not in the least unhealthy. He never with his own consent ran any risk of sudden death. Nobody would ever try to introduce him into a real book, for he was in no way suitable. He was not a philosopher. Not an adventurer. Not a gay dog. Not lively: but he lived, and that at least is a great merit.