Equinox I (04).pdf

52
XIX
THE knight hath found a naked girl
Among the dunes of Breton sand.
She spinneth in a mystic whirl,
And hath a bagpipe in her hand,
Wherefrom she draweth dismal groans
The while her maddening saraband
She plies, and with discordant tones
Desires a certain devil-grace.
She gathers wreckage-wood, and bones
Of seamen, jetsam of the place,
And builds therewith a fire, wherein
She dances, bounding into space
Like an inflated ass’s skin.
She raves, and reels, and yells, and whirls
So that the tears of toil begin
To dew her breasts with ardent pearls.
Nor doth she mitigate her dance,
The bagpipe ever louder skirls,