God, whom we see not, is: and God, who is not, we see: Fiddle, we know, is diddle: and diddle, we take it, is dee. * * * * * JOHN JONES'S WIFE I AT THE PIANO I Love me and leave me; what love bids retrieve me? can June's fist grasp May? Leave me and love me; hopes eyed once above me like spring's sprouts decay; Fall as the snow falls, when summer leaves grow false--cards packed for storm's play! II Nay, say Decay's self be but last May's elf, wing shifted, eye sheathed-- Changeling in April's crib rocked, who lets 'scape rills locked fast since frost breathed-- Skin cast (think!) adder-like, now bloom bursts bladder-like,--bloom frost bequeathed? III Ah, how can fear sit and hear as love hears it grief's heart's cracked grate's screech? Chance lets the gate sway that opens on hate's way and shews on shame's beach Crouched like an imp sly change watch sweet love's shrimps lie, a toothful in each. IV Time feels his tooth slip on husks wet from Truth's lip, which drops them and grins-- Shells where no throb stirs of life left in lobsters since joy thrilled their fins-- Hues of the prawn's tail or comb that makes dawn stale, so red for our sins! V Years blind and deaf use the soul's joys as refuse, heart's peace as manure, Reared whence, next June's rose shall bloom where our moons rose last year, just as pure: Moons' ends match roses' ends: men by beasts' noses' ends mete sin's stink's cure. VI Leaves love last year smelt now feel dead love's tears melt--flies caught in time's mesh! Salt are the dews in which new time breeds new sin, brews blood and stews flesh; Next year may see dead more germs than this weeded and reared them afresh. VII Old times left perish, there's new time to cherish; life just shifts its tune; As, when the day dies, earth, half afraid, eyes the growth of the moon; Love me and save me, take me or waive me; death takes one so soon! II BY THE CLIFF I Is it daytime (guess), You that feed my soul To excess With that light in those eyes And those curls drawn like a scroll In that round grave guise? No or yes? II Oh, the end, I'd say! Such a foolish thing (Pure girls' play!) As a mere mute heart, Was it worth a kiss, a ring, This? for two must part-- Not to-day. III Look, the whole sand crawls, Hums, a heaving hive, Scrapes and scrawls-- Such a buzz and burst! Here just one thing's not alive, One that was at first-- But life palls. IV Yes, my heart, I know, Just my heart's stone dead-- Yes, just so. Sick with heat, those worms Drop down scorched and overfed-- No more need of germs! Let them go. V Yes, but you now, look, You, the rouged stage female With a crook, Chalked Arcadian sham, You that made my soul's sleep's dream ail-- Your soul fit to damn? Shut the book. III ON THE SANDS I