I had a dream, I had a horrid dream. I dreamt that Byron travels for a house That handles wines from Portugal and Spain, That Shelley is a cashier of a bank, That Keats is valet to a wealthy Jew, That Oscar Wilde lays bricks, that Edgar Poe Is selling silks and satins on the road, And that Walt Whitman, he of noble height, Is manager of a department store. And I would have dreamed on, had not disgust, A flood of dire disgust, awakened me, And I myself was forced to rush downtown To live the life I shudder at in dream. LINES WRITTEN ON SEEING HENRI'S PAINTING OF THE LADY IN BLACK VELVET The Lady in black velvet is the night, The deep, uncanny, weird, mysterious night, The witching, troubling, awe-inspiring night, Serene and silent, sweet and subtle night, Tempestuous, tragic, black and feverish night. The Lady in black velvet is the night, Her robe of black as black as blackest night, Enfolds a world--a world of sleepless night, A world of sighs, of cravings and of crimes, Of maddening joys, of languors that consume, Of pains unbearable, of livid fears, Of nightmares and of dreams. Then there's the sombre gray of shifting clouds Whose masses rent asunder now reveal The radiant luminary of the night, Her silv'ry, radiant face is Queen of night. The Lady in black velvet is the night. THE BABE Fruit of a moment of supremest bliss, A passionate embrace, a long drawn kiss, Soft, pink and warm and chubby little thing, Most helpless being, despotic as a king. Third cousin to the gold-fish, the kitten and the chick, As free from care as they are, as shame-free and as quick To feel that life means living and living must be joy, That nothing is of value unless it be a toy. A SCENARIO Scene I. The time--a glorious summer afternoon. The place--somewhere along the Palisades. Rocks here and there; some trees and many bushes. A youthful artist, seated on a rock, With great strokes paints the sun-illumined Hudson. A fair young woman enters on the scene, Absorbed in picking many kinds of flowers. The youthful artist, catching sight of her, Stands up and drops his palette and his brushes. And when she sees the youth she drops the flowers. They stand in silence looking at each other. He then approaches her to raise her flowers-- And then she smiles, and he says foolish things, Deliciously absurd and foolish things. The insects are abuzzing, and the leaves-- The foliage of the bushes and the trees Are whispering--are gossiping in whispers. He takes her by the hand and kisses her, He kisses her and takes her in his arms, And carries her behind a clump of bushes. Scene II.