The Traitor
I saw him pass at twilight;
He was a dark cloud travelling
Over palace roofs
With one claw drooping.
In his face were written ages
Of patient treachery
And the knowledge of his hour.
One dainty thrust, no more
Than this, he needs.
The Fop
His heart is like a wind
Torn between cloud and butterfly;
Whether he will roll passively to one,
Or chase endlessly the other.