Many are the revelers;
Few are the thyrsus-bearers;
And sole is Dionysus.
This I inscribe to you,
Singer,
In memory of the crags of Delphi
And the Thessalian vales beyond.
EMANUEL MORGAN
Opus 40
TWO cocktails round a smile,
A grapefruit after grace,
Flowers in an aisle
. . . Were your face.
A strap in a street-car,
A sea-fan on the sand,
A beer on a bar
. . . Were your hand
The pillar of a porch,
The tapering of an egg,
The pine of a torch
. . . Were your leg.—
Sun on the Hellespont,
White swimmers in the bowl
Of the baptismal font
Are your soul.
ANNE KNISH
Opus 88
SO we came back again
After some years—
Just revisiting
The scenes of our sin.
Nothing is there but the garden;
And we had expected
That we would be there.
I heard a wind blowing
Down the sky.
It came with heavy auguries
And passed.
There was a soothsayer once in Rome
Who on a white altar
Inspected the purple entrails of victims.