—

balloonMan          whistles
far
and
wee

it's
spring
and

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far          and             wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

when the world is puddle-wonderful

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

whistles          far          and wee

in Just-
spring          when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

—

The water rushed, the water swelled,
It clasped his feet, I wis'
A thrill went through his yearning heart,
As when two lovers kiss!
She spake to him, she sang to him:
Resistless was her strain;
Half drew him in, half lured him in;
He ne'er was seen again.

"Bathe not the lovely sun and moon
Within the cool, deep sea,
And with wave-breathing faces rise
In twofold witchery?
Lure not the misty heaven-deeps,
So beautiful and blue?
Lures not thine image, mirrored in
The Fresh eternal dew?

She sang to him, she spake to him:
"My fish why dost thou snare,
With human wit and human guile,
Into the killing air?
Couldst see how happy fishes live
Under the stream so clear,
Thyself would plunge into the stream,
And live for ever there.

THE water rushed, the water swelled,
A fisherman sat by,
And gazed upon his dancing float
With tranquil-dreaming eye.
And as he sits, and as he looks,
The gurgling waves arise;
A maid, all bright with water drops,
Stands straight before his eyes.

—

Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor
You don't love me quite so fiercely now
When you know that you are not sure,
It is your turn, beloved,
It is your flesh that I wear.

I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you've gone away from me,
But I can feel you when you breathe.

You who wish to conquer pain,
You must learn what makes me kind;
The crumbs of love that you offer me,
They're the crumbs I've left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
It's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.

When I am on a pedestal,
You did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
To kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
For this ugly hump at which you stare.

You strike my side by accident
As you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
Is neither starved nor cold;
He does not ask for your company,
Not at the centre, the centre of the world.