Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/218

 Hush! ... I use words I hardly know the meaning of; And the mute birds Are glancing at Love From out their shade of leaf and flower, Trembling at treacheries Which even in noonday cower. Heed, heed not what I said Of frenzied hosts of men, More fools than I, On envy, hatred fed, Who kill, and die — Spake I not plainly, then? Yet Pity whispered, "Why?" Thou silly thing, off to thy daisies go. Mine was not news for child to know. And Death — no ears hath. He hath supped where creep Eyeless worms in hush of sleep; Yet, when he smiles, the hand he draws Athwart his grinning jaws — Faintly the thin bones rattle, and — There, there; Hearken how my bells in the air Drive away care! . ..

Nay, but a dream I had Of a world all mad. Not simply happy mad like me, Who am mad like an empty scene