The time and place and scene just as before. From left to right there enters on the scene Quite simultaneously a man and woman. Each reads a book while walking, so absorbed That they well-nigh collide with one another. He begs her pardon which, of course, she grants. He asks her if they have not met before, Her face seems so familiar, and she says: Perhaps he saw her somewhere at a lecture. And so they start to talk about their books, About their lectures and about their books. They seat themselves upon a rock and talk, And talk and talk and talk and talk and talk. The insects are abuzzing and the leaves-- The foliage of the bushes and the trees Are whispering, are gossiping in whispers. And from behind the softly swaying bushes Escape the sounds of kisses and of sighs, The kisses and the sighs of youthful lovers. And all the time the woman and the man Sit arguing, discussing and discussing Psychology, sociology and ethics. So different it is behind the bushes. And while some hug and kiss and others argue, A sudden gloom spreads over everything. The azure sky is now a sky of ink, The lightning flashes and the thunder claps, The shower is terrific'ly intense. Both couples find an overhanging rock, A scanty shelter 'gainst a raging storm. A blinding lightning flash, a thunder clap, All four lie dead. Is there a moral? Guess! THE TEMPLE Round, full and fertile is her abdomen, Even as Mother Earth. O! tree of life bearing the fruit of love, O! precious shell a precious pearl enclosing, O! wondrous instrument whereon love plays A fiery rhapsody, The echo whereof is a human life. O! blessed mother of the child of man. Ye fools, detach your gaze from godless heavens, God is right here if you would worship God, The mystery of life and love is God, And every pregnant woman is God's temple. SHELLEY Lucifer! dripping with celestial splendour, All aglow with cosmic rebellion, Thundering forth pious blasphemies, Chanting sacrilegious hymns, Thy voice is like unto the trumpet sounds Of the Archangels of the Apocalypse Calling the dead to life. Meteor fallen from the bosom of infinitude Into the common clay, Strange visitant from another orb, Permeated with the music of the spheres, Replete and radiant with rarest gems, Perplexing, exciting, soothing, betwitching. Lucifer! Prometheus! Dionysos! Shelley! THE SCULPTOR AND THE CLAY The sculptor, man, in woman mostly sees The clay of which to model gods of love. Some, cunning little cupids only are, The little rascal gods of light flirtation, Who like the fire-flies on a summer night Are luminous a moment--and that's all.