“Conservatrix of Milésien” Habits of mind and feeling, Possibly. But in Ealing With the most bank-clerkly of Englishmen? No, “Milésian” is an exaggeration. No instinct has survived in her Older than those her grandmother Told her would fit her station. XII “Daphne with her thighs in bark Stretches toward me her leafy hands,”-- Subjectively. In the stuffed-satin drawing-room I await The Lady Valentine’s commands, Knowing my coat has never been Of precisely the fashion To stimulate, in her, A durable passion; Doubtful, somewhat, of the value Of well-gowned approbation Of literary effort, But never of The Lady Valentine’s vocation: Poetry, her border of ideas, The edge, uncertain, but a means of blending With other strata Where the lower and higher have ending; A hook to catch the Lady Jane’s attention, A modulation toward the theatre, Also, in the case of revolution, A possible friend and comforter. * * * * * Conduct, on the other hand, the soul “Which the highest cultures have nourished” To Fleet St. where Dr. Johnson flourished; Beside this thoroughfare The sale of half-hose has Long since superseded the cultivation Of Pierian roses. ENVOI (1919) _Go, dumb-born book, Tell her that sang me once that song of Lawes; Hadst thou but song As thou hast subjects known, Then were there cause in thee that should condone Even my faults that heavy upon me lie And build her glories their longevity._ _Tell her that sheds Such treasure in the air, Reeking naught else but that her graces give Life to the moment, I would bid them live As roses might, in magic amber laid, Red overwrought with orange and all made One substance and one colour Braving time._ _Tell her that goes With song upon her lips But sings not out the song, nor knows The maker of it, some other mouth, May be as fair as hers, Might, in new ages, gain her worshippers, When our two dusts with Waller’s shall be laid, Siftings on siftings in oblivion, Till change hath broken down All things save Beauty alone._ 1920 (MAUBERLEY) I Turned from the “eau-forte Par Jaquemart” To the strait head Of Messalina: “His true Penelope Was Flaubert,” And his tool The engraver’s. Firmness, Not the full smile, His art, but an art In profile; Colourless Pier Francesca, Pisanello lacking the skill To forge Achaia. II “_Qu’est ce qu’ils savent de l’amour, et qu’est ce qu’ils peuvent comprendre_?