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citya band of twinkling gemslittle flower-heads with no stems. I
cannot see the beer-glassnor the letters of the restaurants and shops I
passednow the signs blur and all together make the cityglowing on a
night of fine weatherlike a garden stirring and blowing for the Spring.
The night is fresh-washed and fair and there is a whiff of flowers in the
air.
Wrap me closesheets of lavender. Pour your blue and purple dreams
into my ears. The breeze whispers at the shutters and mutters queer tales
of old daysand cobbled streetsand youths leaping their horses down
MenWomen and Ghosts
104
marble stairways. Pale blue lavenderyou are the colour of the sky when
it is fresh-washed and fair . . . I smell the stars . . . they are like tulips and
narcissus . . . I smell them in the air.
The Dinner-Party
Fish
So . . .
they saidWith their wine-glasses delicately poisedMocking
at the thing they cannot understand. "So . . ." they said againAmused and
insolent. The silver on the table glitteredAnd the red wine in the glasses
Seemed the blood I had wasted In a foolish cause.
Game
The gentleman with the grey-and-black whiskers Sneered languidly
over his quail. Then my heart flew up and labour cheaper auyhentic purseyilai：nike heels for women