Decadence
Before the florid portico
I watched the gamblers come and go,
While by me on a bench there sat
A female in a faded hat;
A shabby, shrinking, crumpled creature,
Of waxy casino-ward with eyes
Of lost soul seeking paradise.
Then from the Café de la Paix
There shambled forth a waiter fellow,
Clad dingily, down-stooped and grey,
With hollow face, careworn and yellow.
With furtive feet before our seat
He came to a respectful stand,
And bowed, my sorry crone to greet,
Saying: “Princess, I kiss your hand.”
She gave him such a gracious smile,
And bade him linger by her side;
So there they talked a little while
Of kingly pomp and country pride;
Of Marquis This and Prince von That,
Of Old Vienna, glamour gay. . . .
Then sad he rose and raised his hat:
Saying: “My tables I must lay.”
“Yea, you must go, dear Count,” she said,
“For luncheon tables must be laid.”
He sighed: from his alpaca jacket
He pressed into her hand a packet,
“Sorry, to-day it’s all I’m rich in –
A chicken sandwich from the kitchen.”
Then bowed and left her after she
Had thanked him with sweet dignity.
She pushed the package out of sight,
Within her bag and closed it tight;
But by and bye I saw her go
To where thick laurel bushes grow,
And there behind that leafy screen,
Thinking herself by all unseen,
That sandwich! How I saw her grab it,
And gulp it like a starving rabbit!
Thinks I: Is all that talk a bluff –
Their dukes and kings and courtly stuff:
The way she ate, why one would say
She hadn’t broken fast all day.
Related poetry:
- The beans were exciting I tried cooking in my new Quicksilver jacket, just An affectation I assure you – no, not the coat Or the cooking but me in the wearing of it, A form of warped appreciation, and when I think Of it the gag was truly fitting; it wasn’t new, A barely used waterproof surfers’ jacket bought […]...
- I Knew A Man By Sight I knew a man by sight, A blameless wight, Who, for a year or more, Had daily passed my door, Yet converse none had had with him. I met him in a lane, Him and his cane, About three miles from home, Where I had chanced to roam, And volumes stared at him, and he […]...
- The Evil Eye It comes oozing Out of flowers at night, It comes out of the rain If a snake looks skyward, It comes out of chairs and tables If you don’t point at them and say their names. It comes into your mouth while you sleep, Pressing in like a washcloth. Beware. Beware. If you meet a […]...
- Count That Day Lost If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have done, And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who heard, One glance most kind That fell like sunshine where it went Then you may count that day well spent. But if, through all […]...
- Sonnet CXXII Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full character’d with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain Beyond all date, even to eternity; Or at the least, so long as brain and heart Have faculty by nature to subsist; Till each to razed oblivion yield his part Of thee, thy record never […]...
- Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full charactered with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain Beyond all date even to eternity- Or at the least, so long as brain and heart Have faculty by nature to subsist; Till each to razed oblivion yield his part Of thee, thy record never […]...
- I met a King this afternoon! I met a King this afternoon! He had not on a Crown indeed, A little Palmleaf Hat was all, And he was barefoot, I’m afraid! But sure I am he Ermine wore Beneath his faded Jacket’s blue And sure I am, the crest he bore Within that Jacket’s pocket too! For ’twas too stately for […]...
- At Eighty Years As nothingness draws near How I can see Inexorably clear My vanity. My sum of worthiness Always so small, Dwindles from less to less To none at all. As grisly destiny Claims me at last, How grievous seem to me Sins of my past! How keen a conscience edge Can come to be! How pitiless […]...
- Another Day having the low down blues and going Into a restraunt to eat. You sit at a table. The waitress smiles at you. She’s dumpy. her ass is too big. She radiates kindess and symphaty. Live with her 3 months and a man would no real agony. O. k., you’ll tip her 15 percent. You order […]...
- Child of the Romans THE dago shovelman sits by the railroad track Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna. A train whirls by, and men and women at tables Alive with red roses and yellow jonquils, Eat steaks running with brown gravy, Strawberries and cream, eclaires and coffee. The dago shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna, Washes […]...
- Two Children Give me your hand, oh little one! Like children be we two; Yet I am old, my day is done That barely breaks for you. A baby-basket hard you hold, With in it cherries four: You cherish them as men do gold, And count them o’er. And then you stumble in your walk; The cherries […]...
- Hymn 78 The strength of Christ’s love. SS 8:5-7,13,14. [Who is this fair one in distress, That travels from the wilderness? And pressed with sorrows and with sins, On her beloved Lord she leans. This is the spouse of Christ our God, Bought with the treasure of his blood; And her request and her complaint Is but […]...
- How the Waters closed above Him How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know How He stretched His Anguish to us That is covered too Spreads the Pond Her Base of Lilies Bold above the Boy Whose unclaimed Hat and Jacket Sum the History...
- The Hand That Signed The Paper The hand that signed the paper felled a city; Five sovereign fingers taxed the breath, Doubled the globe of dead and halved a country; These five kings did a king to death. The mighty hand leads to a sloping shoulder, The finger joints are cramped with chalk; A goose’s quill has put an end to […]...
- The Jacket Through the Plagues of Egyp’ we was chasin’ Arabi, Gettin’ down an’ shovin’ in the sun; An’ you might ‘ave called us dirty, an’ you might ha’ called us dry, An’ you might ‘ave ‘eard us talkin’ at the gun. But the Captain ‘ad ‘is jacket, an’ the jacket it was new (‘Orse Gunners, listen […]...
- As if I asked a common Alms As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand As if I asked the Orient Had it for me a Morn And it should lift its purple Dikes, And shatter me with Dawn!...
- The Orient Express One looks from the train Almost as one looked as a child. In the sunlight What I see still seems to me plain, I am safe; but at evening As the lands darken, a questioning Precariousness comes over everything. Once after a day of rain I lay longing to be cold; after a while I […]...
- The Summer Sun Shone Round Me THE summer sun shone round me, The folded valley lay In a stream of sun and odour, That sultry summer day. The tall trees stood in the sunlight As still as still could be, But the deep grass sighed and rustled And bowed and beckoned me. The deep grass moved and whispered And bowed and […]...
- Your Dad Did What? Where they have been, if they have been away, Or what they’ve done at home, if they have not – You make them write about the holiday. One writes My Dad did. What? Your Dad did what? That’s not a sentence. Never mind the bell. We stay behind until the work is done. You count […]...
- In The Well My father cinched the rope, A noose around my waist, And lowered me into The darkness. I could taste My fear. It tasted first Of dark, then earth, then rot. I swung and struck my head And at that moment got Another then: then blood, Which spiked my mouth with iron. Hand over hand, my […]...
- Bourne When the Cherry Rustles above her head She hardly realizes Why she leaves Her clothes on the rocks, Passes a hand absently Through water As if smoothing An infant’s forehead. Instead she takes the fruit Pressed into her hand And watches the bloody stone Wet her fingers. Wasn’t sweetness always A symbol for their falling. […]...
- Boots We’re foot slog slog slog sloggin’ over Africa Foot foot foot foot sloggin’ over Africa (Boots boots boots boots movin’ up an’ down again!) There’s no discharge in the war! Seven six eleven five nine-an’-twenty mile to-day Four eleven seventeen thirty-two the day before (Boots boots boots boots movin’ up an’ down again!) There’s no […]...
- The Bungler You glow in my heart Like the flames of uncounted candles. But when I go to warm my hands, My clumsiness overturns the light, And then I stumble Against the tables and chairs....
- Grandeur loneliness is a state The lonely cannot reach It carries a grandeur That doesn’t fit into Bed-sitters or rejected Ideas – it’s the label stuck On the bottle after The tables have gone...
- You'll know Her by Her Foot You’ll know Her by Her Foot The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers where the Toes should be Would more affront the Sand Than this Quaint Creature’s Boot Adjusted by a Stern Without a Button I could vouch Unto a Velvet Limb You’ll know Her by Her Vest Tight fitting Orange Brown Inside a Jacket duller […]...
- The Glove and The Lions King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride, And ‘mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed: And truly ’twas a gallant thing to […]...
- Carlovingian Dreams COUNT these reminiscences like money. The Greeks had their picnics under another name. The Romans wore glad rags and told their neighbors, “What of it?” The Carlovingians hauling logs on carts, they too Stuck their noses in the air and stuck their thumbs to their noses And tasted life as a symphonic dream of fresh […]...
- The Lightning is a yellow Fork The Lightning is a yellow Fork From Tables in the sky By inadvertent fingers dropt The awful Cutlery Of mansions never quite disclosed And never quite concealed The Apparatus of the Dark To ignorance revealed....
- Eternities I cannot count the pebbles in the brook. Well hath He spoken: “Swear not by thy head. Thou knowest not the hairs,” though He, we read, Writes that wild number in His own strange book. I cannot count the sands or search the seas, Death cometh, and I leave so much untrod. Grant my immortal […]...
- The Red Shirt “…his poems that no one reads anymore become dust, wind, nothing, Like the insolent colored shirt he bought to die in.” -Vargas Llosa If I gave 5 birds Each 4 eyes I would be blind Unto the 3rd Generation, if I Gave no one a word For a day And let the day Grow into […]...
- In Due Season If night should come and find me at my toil, When all Life’s day I had, tho’ faintly, wrought, And shallow furrows, cleft in stony soil Were all my labour: Shall I count it naught If only one poor gleaner, weak of hand, Shall pick a scanty sheaf where I have sown? “Nay, for of […]...
- The Shroud Death, I say, my heart is bowed Unto thine,-O mother! This red gown will make a shroud Good as any other! (I, that would not wait to wear My own bridal things, In a dress dark as my hair Made my answerings. I, to-night, that till he came Could not, could not wait, In a […]...
- June 11 It’s my birtday I’ve got an empty Stomach and the desire to be Lazy in the hammock and maybe Go for a cool swim on a hot day With the trombone in Sinatra’s “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” In my head and then to break for Lunch a corned-beef sandwich and Pepsi With plenty […]...
- The Fairies Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren’t go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl’s feather! Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the […]...
- Two valentines I. TO MISTRESS BARBARA There were three cavaliers, all handsome and true, On Valentine’s day came a maiden to woo, And quoth to your mother: “Good-morrow, my dear, We came with some songs for your daughter to hear!” Your mother replied: “I’ll be pleased to convey To my daughter what things you may sing or […]...
- Rhyme Builder I envy not those gay galoots Who count on dying in their boots; For that, to tell the sober truth Sould be the privilege of youth; But aged bones are better sped To heaven from a downy bed. So prop me up with pillows two, And serve me with the barley brew; And put a […]...
- Dream Song 86: Op. posth. no. 9 The conclusion is growing. . . I feel sure, my lord, This august court will entertain the plea Not Guilty by reason of death. I can say no more except that for the record I add that all the crimes since all the times he Died will be due to the breath Of unknown others, […]...
- Schoolroom On A Wet Afternoon The unrelated paragraphs of morning Are forgotten now; the severed heads of kings Rot by the misty Thames; the roses of York And Lancaster are pressed between the leaves Of history; Negroes sleep in Africa. The complexities of simple interest lurk In inkwells and the brittle sticks of chalk: Afternoon is come and English Grammar. […]...
- Again his voice is at the door Again his voice is at the door I feel the old Degree I hear him ask the servant For such an one as me I take a flower as I go My face to justify He never saw me in this life I might surprise his eye! I cross the Hall with mingled steps I […]...
- 'Out, Out ' The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood, Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it. And from there those that lifted eyes could count Five mountain ranges one behind the other Under the sunset far into Vermont. And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and […]...