The Equinox (Volume I, Number V)

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, 43