I turned to meet your eyes
And saw
Like a light, rosy veil
Your flesh sink gently down
Leaving only the simple skeleton
And a white voice which said:
"This still is I,
Do you love me
Now?"
Quietly, and without sadness
I looked upon you,
For comfort blindly reached my soul
And primitive beauty.
Without passion, without fervour,
I spoke at last:
"Somehow Faith
Shines from your empty eye-holes,
And Truth
Speaks mutely from your fleshless jaws.
I choose your skeleton to lie with
In the peaceful bed of earth
Through all the dreamless, mornless, utter night!"
Poems of Elijah Hay
The Golden Stag
O hungry hearted ones, sharp-limbed, keen-eyed,
Let me have place!
I too would ride
On your fantastic chase.
Your hunger is a silver hunting horn,
I heard it sweep
The frozen, peaceful morn:
Its note bit me from sleep.
I will ride with you, hunters, even I,
Toward a far hill
To see the golden stag against the sky
Uncaptured still.
To Anne Knish
Madam, you intrigue me!
I have come this far
Cautiously sneezing
Along the dusty highroad of convention,
But now it leads no farther toward you.