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JONAH
CHRISTMAS
1917
Printed at the Holywell Press, Oxford.
JONAH.
A cream of phospherescent light
Floats on the wash that to and fro
Slides round his feet—enough to show
Many a pendulous stalactite
Of naked mucus, whorls and wreaths
And huge festoons of mottled tripes,
With smaller palpitating pipes
Through which some yeasty liquor seethes.
Seated upon the convex mound
Of one vast kidney, Jonah prays
And sings his canticles and hymns,
Making the hollow vault resound
God’s goodness and mysterious ways,
Till the great fish spouts music as he swims.
BEHEMOTH.
His eyes are little rutilant stones
Sunk in black basalt; scale by scale
Men count the wealth of silver mail
That laps his flesh and iron bones.
And from his navel, deep and wide
As an old Cyclops’ drinking-bowl,
Spring those stout nerves of twisted hide
That are his life and strength and soul.
Basking his belly, fast asleep
He sprawls on the warm shingle bank;
And the bold Ethiops come and creep
Along his polished heaving flank,
And in his navel brew their wine
And drink vast strength and grow divine.
MINOAN PORCELAIN.
Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze
All imperturbable do not
Even make pretences to regard
The jutting absence of her stays
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