JACK AND JILL
—Jack and Jill went up a hill
To draw a pail of water.
WHAT moan is made of the mountain, what sob of the hillside,
Why a lament of the south wind, and rainfall as tears?
Brother and sister, once bodies and spirits together,
Fell as fair ghosts down the sad swift slope of the years.
Where is the fount on the mount where the thrill of water
Sang as a siren its song to the steep beneath?
Where are the feet of the son and the fair-eyed daughter,
Feet drawn aside of Fate, and set in the pathway of Death!
Ah cruel earth and hard, ah, pitiless laughter
Made of the waters, when, shattered his golden crown,
Fell the fair boy as a star, and his sister after,
To the field of the dead, to its cold and the darkness unknown!
Elizabeth Cavazza.