A Forced Music 66 The Turn of a Page 67 The Manifestation in the Temple 68 To Any Saint 70 A Dewdrop 71 A Valentine 72 _WHIPPERGINNY_ (“A card game, obsolete.”--_Standard Dictionary._) To cards we have recourse When Time with cruelty runs, To courtly Bridge for stress of love, To Nap for noise of guns. On fairy earth we tread, No present problems vex Where man’s four humours fade to suits, With red and black for sex. Where phantom gains accrue By tricks instead of cash, Where pasteboard federacies of Powers In battles-royal clash. Then read the antique word That hangs above this page As type of mirth-abstracted joy, Calm terror, noiseless rage, A realm of ideal thought, Obscured by veils of Time, Cipher remote enough to stand As namesake for my rhyme, A game to play apart When all but crushed with care; Let right and left, your jealous hands, The lists of love prepare. THE BEDPOST Sleepy Betsy from her pillow Sees the post and ball Of her sister’s wooden bedstead Shadowed on the wall. Now this grave young warrior standing With uncovered head Tells her stories of old battle, As she lies in bed. How the Emperor and the Farmer, Fighting knee to knee, Broke their swords but whirled their scabbards Till they gained the sea. How the ruler of that shore Foully broke his oath, Gave them beds in his sea cavern, Then stabbed them both. How the daughters of the Emperor, Diving boldly through, Caught and killed their father’s murderer, Old Cro-bar-cru. How the Farmer’s sturdy sons Fought the giant Gog, Threw him into Stony Cataract In the land of Og. Will and Abel were their names, Though they went by others; He could tell ten thousand stories Of these lusty brothers. How the Emperor’s elder daughter Fell in love with Will, And went with him to the Court of Venus Over Hoo Hill; How Gog’s wife encountered Abel Whom she hated most, Stole away his arms and helmet, Turned him to a post. As a post he shall be rooted For yet many years, Until a maiden shall release him With a fall of tears. But Betsy likes the bloodier stories, Clang and clash of fight, And Abel wanes with the spent candle, “Sweetheart, good-night!” A LOVER SINCE CHILDHOOD