THREE POEMS FOR JANE CHERON
I
THE WAIF OF OCEANUS
TO FRANK HARRIS
SHE is like a flower washed up
On the shore of life by the sea of luck
;
A strange and venomous flower, intent
To prove an unguessed continent.
New worlds of love in the curve of its cup!
New fruits to crush, new flowers to pluck.
White waif, white champak-blossom blown
From the jungle to the lost lagoon !
White lily swayed by the wind of time
!
Grey eyes that crave the chrism of crime
!
Blanched face like a note on a clarion I
Red mouth like the sun through simoon, typhoonl
Hurricanes howl, howl in her heart;
Serpents sleep in her smile; I hear
Horrible happenings long ago,
Direful deeds, weirds of woe,
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