POEMS OLD AND NEW

PORTRAIT OF A BOY
AFTER the whipping, he crawled into bed ;
Accepting the harsh fact with no great weeping.
How funny uncle's hat had looked striped red !
He chuckled silently. The moon came, sweeping
A black frayed rug of tattered cloud before
In scorning ; very pure and pale she seemed,
Flooding his bed with radiance. On the floor
Fat motes danced. He sobbed ; closed his eyes and
dreamed.
Warm sand flowed round him. Blurts of crimson
light
Splashed the white grains like blood. Past the cave's
mouth 10
Shone with a large fierce splendour, wildly bright,
The crooked constellations of the South ;
Here the Gross swung ; and there, confronting Mars,
The Centaur stormed aside a froth of stars.
Within, great casks like wattled aldermen
Sighed of enormous feasts, and cloth of gold
Glowed on the walls like hot desire. Again
Beside webbed purples from some galleon's hold,
A black chest bore the skull and bones in white
Above a scrawled " Gunpowder ! " By the flames, 20
Decked out in crimson, gemmed with syenite,
Hailing their fellows by outrageous names
The pirates sat and diced. Their eyes were moons.
" Doubloons ! " they said. The words crashed gold.
" Doubloons ! "
STEPHEN VINCENT BENET