Page:Hermione and her little group of serious thinkers (1923, c1916).djvu/178

Hermione Our Hermy attended as Psyche—
 * She siked and she got it across!

And Fothergil Finch, rather gaumy
 * With Cosmic cosmetics, was there,

But the Swami went just as the Swami,
 * After oiling the kinks in his hair.

I said to Hermione: "Goddess!
 * You're graceful, you're Greek, you're a rose,

From the pinions that rise from your bodice
 * To the raddle I note on your toes,

"And Fothergil, here, with his censer,
 * And his little cheeks crimson as beets,

Your acolyte, perfume-dispenser,
 * Is sweet as a page out of Keats,

"But tell me, my Dea—my Psyche!—
 * (With your wings outspread as to race

With that swift and acephalous Nike
 * Who lost her bean somewhere in Thrace)—

"My Thea—my classical pigeon!—
 * Is not your Sincerity shocked

By this giddy revue of religion?…
 * Are none of these gods being mocked?…

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