Page:Songs from Vagabondia (1897).djvu/64
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“What’s that?” said Beelzebub.
“A lover,” said God.
And Beelzebub frowned, for he knew that kind.
“A lover,” said God.
And Beelzebub frowned, for he knew that kind.
And then God fashioned a fellow shape
As lithe as a willow rod,
And gave it the merry roving eye
And the range of the open road.
As lithe as a willow rod,
And gave it the merry roving eye
And the range of the open road.
“What’s that?” said Beelzebub.
“A vagrant,” said God.
And Beelzebub smiled, for he knew that kind.
“A vagrant,” said God.
And Beelzebub smiled, for he knew that kind.
And last of all God fashioned a form,
And gave it, what was odd,
The loyal heart and the roving eye;
And he whistled, light of care.
And gave it, what was odd,
The loyal heart and the roving eye;
And he whistled, light of care.
“What’s that?” said Beelzebub.
“A poet,” said God.
And Beelzebub frowned, for he did not know.
“A poet,” said God.
And Beelzebub frowned, for he did not know.
THE MOTE.
Two shapes of august bearing, seraph tall,
Of indolent imperturbable regard,
Stood in the Tavern door to drink. As the first
Lifted his glass to let the warm light melt
In the slow bubbles of the wine, a sunbeam,
Red and broad as smouldering autumn, smote
Down through its mystery; and a single fleck,
The tiniest sun-mote settling through the air,
Fell on the grape-dark surface and there swam.
Of indolent imperturbable regard,
Stood in the Tavern door to drink. As the first
Lifted his glass to let the warm light melt
In the slow bubbles of the wine, a sunbeam,
Red and broad as smouldering autumn, smote
Down through its mystery; and a single fleck,
The tiniest sun-mote settling through the air,
Fell on the grape-dark surface and there swam.
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