And as stars go out in the crocus light of dawn, As waters drip from a failing fountain, So passed these days of June. As a boy strips from a stalk of snap-dragons The perfect blossoms, And treads them into the earth, So you have taken the June days from me-- Bitter be the seed of your love. On my couch by the sea, My golden curls loosened, Resting after the cool ablution of evening waters, My body white as whitecaps, under the moon, My eyes large as the fox's lurking in darkness, I have waited for your return. May the scourge of Asia mar your beautiful body, Beloved! You have wasted my loveliest June. As the unheeding wind Drives the falling cherry blossoms Into the purple waves, So you have scattered my days of June-- Bitter be the seed of your love! I have distilled henbane for you, Beloved, And put it in a crystal vial. The moon of October will shine, Then you will come to me, Your wanderings and treasons finished! And when you slip exhausted from my arms I will give you wine from a golden cup, And pour the henbane in it-- I shall give you henbane for the poison of defeated love; I shall kiss your dead lips, Beloved. Then I shall drink, too. Our bodies shall feed the worms As these June days have fed my writhing sorrow, Beloved murderer of my June! AT DECAPOLIS MARK, CHAP. V I THE ACCUSATION I am a farmer and live Two miles from Decapolis. Where is the magistrate? Tell me Where the magistrate is! Here I had made provision For children and wife, And now I have lost my all; I am ruined for life. I, a believer, too, In the synagogues.-- What is the faith to me? I have lost my hogs. Two thousand hogs as fine As ever you saw, Drowned and choked in the sea-- I want the law! They were feeding upon a hill When a strolling teacher Came by and scared my hogs-- They say he's a preacher, And cures the possessed who haunt The tombs and bogs. All right; but why send devils Into my hogs? They squealed and grunted and ran And plunged in the sea. And the lunatic laughed who was healed, Of the devils free. Devils or fright, no matter A fig or straw. Where is the magistrate, tell me-- I want the law! II JESUS BEFORE MAGISTRATE AHAZ Ahaz, there in the seat of judgment, hear, If you have wit to understand my plea. Swine-devils are too much for swine, that's clear, Poor man possessed of such is partly free, Is neither drowned, destroyed at once, his chains May pluck while running, howling through the mire And take a little gladness for his pains, Some fury for unsatisfied desire.