Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/248

POETRY: A Magazine of Verse And thorn-sharp feet of dryad-things Were company to their wanderings; Then rain and darkness on them drew. The rich folks' motors honked and flew. They hailed an old cab, heaven for two; The bright Champs-Elysées at last— Though the cab crawled it sped too fast.

Paris, upspringing white and gold: Flamboyant arch and high-enscrolled War-sculpture, big, Napoleonic— Fierce chargers, angels histrionic; The royal sweep of gardened spaces, The pomp and whirl of columned Places; The Rive Gauche, age-old, gay and gray; The impasse and the loved café; The tempting tidy little shops; The convent walls, the glimpsed tree-tops; Book-stalls, old men like dwarfs in plays; Talk, work, and Latin Quarter ways.

May—Robinson's, the chestnut trees— Were ever crowds as gay as these? The quick pale waiters on a run, The round green tables, one by one, Hidden away in amorous bowers— Lilac, laburnum's golden showers. Kiss, dink of glasses, laughter heard,