Page:Hermione and her little group of serious thinkers (1923, c1916).djvu/16



Hermione I saw some Soul Mates side by side Who said their cute young Souls were pink; I saw a Genius on the Brink (Or so he said) of suicide. I saw a Playwright who had tried But couldn’t make the Public think; I saw a Novelist who cried, Reading his own Stuff, in his drink; I met a vapid egg-eyed Gink Who said eight times: "Art is my Bride!"

A Queen in sandals slammed the Pans And screamed a Chinese chant at us, The while a Hippopotamus Shook tables, book-shelves and divans With vast Terpsichorean fuss… Some Oriental kind of muss….

A rat-faced Idiot Boy who slimes White paper o’er with metric crimes— He is a kind of Burbling Blear Who warbles Sex Slush sad to hear And mocks God in his stolen rhymes And wears a ruby in one ear— Murmured to me: "My Golden Soul Drinks Song from out a Crystal Bowl…. Drinks Love and Song … my Golden Soul!" I let him live. There were no bricks, [2]