Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 47824-h.htm or 47824-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/47824/47824-h/47824-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/47824/47824-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See https://archive.org/details/pierglass00gravuoft THE PIER-GLASS [Illustration: ROBERT GRAVES (From a Painting by Benjamin Nicholson).] THE PIER-GLASS by ROBERT GRAVES London: Martin Secker This myrrour I tote in, _quasi diaphanum Vel quasi speculum, in aenigmate_.... _Speke Parot, John Skelton._ The London and Norwich Press, Limited, London and Norwich, England TO NANCY NICHOLSON NOTE Most of the pieces here included have appeared serially in _The London Mercury_, _The Athenæum_, _The Spectator_, _The Nation_, _The New Statesman_, _To-day_, _The Century Magazine_ and other periodicals, English and American. Robert Graves. Boar's Hill, Oxford. CONTENTS The Stake, 11 The Troll's Nosegay, 12 The Pier-glass, 13 The Finding of Love, 15 Reproach, 17 The Magical Picture, 18 Distant Smoke, 21 Morning Phoenix, 23 Catherine Drury, 24 Raising the Stone, 25 The Treasure Box, 26 The Kiss, 28 Lost Love, 29 Fox's Dingle, 30 The Gnat, 31 The Patchwork Bonnet, 34 Kit Logan and Lady Helen, 35 Down, 36 Saul of Tarsus, 38 Storm: at the Farm Window, 39 Black Horse Lane, 40 Return, 42 Incubus, 44 The Hills of May, 45 The Coronation Murder, 49 THE STAKE Naseboro' held him guilty, Crowther took his part, Who lies at the cross-roads, A stake through his heart. Spring calls, and the stake answers Throwing out shoots; The towns debate what life is this Sprung from such roots. Naseboro' says "A Upas Tree"; "A Rose," says Crowther; But April's here to declare it Neither one nor other. Neither ill nor very fair, Rose nor Upas, But an honest oak-tree, As its parent was. A green-tufted oak-tree On the green wold, Careless as the dead heart That the roots enfold. THE TROLL'S NOSEGAY A simple nosegay! was that much to ask? (Winter still gloomed, with scarce a bud yet showing). He loved her ill, if he resigned the task. "Somewhere," she cried, "there must be blossom blowing." It seems my lady wept and the troll swore By Heaven he hated tears: he'd cure her spleen; Where she had begged one flower, he'd shower fourscore, A haystack bunch to amaze a China Queen.