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diff --git a/4530.txt b/4530.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3bec3f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/4530.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2458 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Precipitations, by Evelyn Scott + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Precipitations + +Author: Evelyn Scott + +Posting Date: August 18, 2009 [EBook #4530] +Release Date: October, 2003 +First Posted: February 2, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRECIPITATIONS *** + + + + +Produced by Catherine Daly + + + + + + + + + +Evelyn Scott + + +PRECIPITATIONS + + +1920 + + + +The author acknowledges the courtesy of the editors of THE POETRY +JOURNAL; OTHERS; THE EGOIST (London); POETRY: A MAGAZINE OF VERSE; +PLAYBOY; THE DIAL; THE LIBERATOR; OTHERS: An ANTHOLOGY OF THE NEW +VERSE; THE NATION (New York); and THE LYRIC, from all of which poems +in this volume have been reprinted. + + + + Contents + + Manhattan + + The Unpeopled City + + Midnight Worship: Brooklyn Bridge + Ascension: Autumn Dusk in Central Park + Startled Forest: Hudson River + Winter Streets + February Springtime + The Assumption of Columbine + From Brooklyn + Snow Dance + Potter's Field + Lights at Night + Midnight + + Crowds + + Summer Night + New York + Sunset: Battery Park + Crowds + Riots + The City at Night + + Vanities + + Bread Poems + + Lullaby + Embarkation of Cythera + Christian Luxuries + Narrow Flowers + Eyes + After Youth + The Shadow that Walks Alone + Bible Truth + The Maternal Breast + Air for G String + Destiny + + The Red Cross + + Hectic I-II + Isolation Ward + The Red Cross + Hospital Night + + Domestic Canticle + + Spring Song + Home Again + To a Sick Child + Love Song + Quarrel + My Child + The Tunnel I-V + + Bruised Sunlight + + Water Moods + + Rain on the Seashore + Ship Masts + Monochrome + Antique + Echo Looks at Herself + Spell + + Hungry Seasons + + Rainy Twilight + The Storm + Nymphs + Winter Dawn + + The Wall of Night + + Springtime Too Soon + Stars + Night Music + Nocturne of Water + The Long Moment + Designs I-IV + Argo + Japanese Moon + The Naiad + Floodtide + Mountain Pass in August + + Contemporaries + + Harmonics + + Young Men + Young Girls + House Spirits + At the Meeting House + Christians + Devil's Cradle + Women + Penelope + Poor People's Dreams + For Wives and Mistresses + + Portraits + + Portrait of Rich Old Lady + Nigger + The Maiden Mother + A Pious Woman + A Very Old Rose Jar + The Nixie + Old Ladies' Valhalla + Portraits of Poets I-III + Theodore Dreiser + Pieta + + Brazil Through A Mist + + The Ranch + + Tropical Life + Twenty-four Hours + Rainy Season + Mail on the Ranch + The Vampire Bat + Conservatism + Little Pigs + The Silly Ewe + The Snake + The Years + Burning Mountains I-III + Tropical Winter + Talk on the Ranch + + Les Malades des Pays Chauds + + Pride of Race + Don Quixote Sojourns in Rio de Janeiro + Convent Musings + Guitarra + November + + The Coming of Christ + + The Death of Columbine + + Duet + From a Man Dying on a Cross + Lagniappe + Hail Mary! + The Death of Columbine + Pierrot Laughs + The Transmigration of Caliban + Gundry + Viennese Waltz + + Resurrection + + Immortality + Autumn Night + Venus' Fly Trap + Suicide + Leaves I-IV + Allegro + + + + + MANHATTAN + + THE UNPEOPLED CITY + + MIDNIGHT WORSHIP: BROOKLYN BRIDGE + + In the rain + Rows of street lamps are saints in bright garments + That flow long with the bend of knees. + They lift pale heads nimbussed with golden spikes. + + Up the lanes of liquid onyx + Toward the high fire-laden altars + Move the saints of Manhattan + In endless pilgrimage to death, + Amidst the asphodel and anemones of dawn. + + ASCENSION: AUTUMN DUSK IN CENTRAL PARK + + Featureless people glide with dim motion through a quivering + blue silver; + Boats merge with the bronze-gold welters about their keels. + The trees float upward in gray and green flames. + Clouds, swans, boats, trees, all gliding up a hillside + After some gray old women who lift their gaunt forms + From falling shrouds of leaves. + + Thin fingered twigs clutch darkly at nothing. + Crackling skeletons shine. + Along the smutted horizon of Fifth Avenue + The hooded houses watch heavily + With oily gold eyes. + + STARTLED FORESTS: HUDSON RIVER + + The thin hill pushes against the mist. + Its fading defiance sounds in the umber and red of autumn leaves. + Like a dead arm around a warm throat + Is the sagging embrace of the river + Laid grayly about the shore. + + The train passes. + We emerge from a tunnel into a sky of thin blue morning glories + Where yellow lily bells tinkle down. + The paths run swiftly away under the lamp glow + Like green and blue lizards + Mottled with light. + + WINTER STREETS + + The stars, escaping, + Evaporate in acrid mists. + The houses, rearing themselves higher, + Assemble among the clouds. + Night blows through me. + I am clear with its bitterness. + I tinkle along brick canyons + Like a crystal leaf. + + FEBRUARY SPRINGTIME + + The trees hold out pale gilded branches + Stiff and high in the wind. + On the lawns + Patches of gray-lilac snow + Melt in the hollows of the terraces. + The park is an ocean of fawn-colored plush, + Ridged and faded. + Sharp and delicate, + My shadow moves after me on the rumpled grass-- + Grass like a pillow worn by a dear head. + Joy! + + THE ASSUMPTION OF COLUMBINE + + The lights trickle grayly down from the hoary palisades + And drip into the river. + Leaden reflections flow into the water. + Framed in your window, + Your little face glows deceptively + In a rigid ecstasy, + As the wide-winged morning + Folds back the mist. + + FROM BROOKLYN + + Along the shore + A black net of branches + Tangles the pulpy yellow lamps. + The shell-colored sky is lustrous with the fading sun. + Across the river Manhattan floats-- + Dim gardens of fire-- + And rushing invisible toward me through the fog, + A hurricane of faces. + + SNOW DANCE + + Black brooms of trees sweep the sky clean; + Sweep the house fronts, + And leave them bleak in sleep. + High up the empty moon + Spills her vacuity. + + I dance. + My long black shadow + + Weaves an invisible pattern of pain. + The snow + Is embroidered with my happiness. + + POTTER'S FIELD + + Golden petals, honey sweet, + Crushed beneath fear-hastened feet... + + Silver paper lanterns glow and shudder + in flat patterns + On a gray eternal face + Stained with pain. + + LIGHTS AT NIGHT + + In the city, + Storms of light + Surge against the clouds, + Pushing up the darkness. + + In the country, + Is the faint pressure of oil lamps, + That sputter, + Smothered with earth-- + Extinguished in silence. + + MIDNIGHT + + The golden snow of the stars + Drifts in mounds of light, + Melts against the hot sides of the city, + Cool cheek against burning breast, + Cold golden snow, + Falling all night. + + CROWDS + + SUMMER NIGHT + + The bloated moon + Has sickly leaves glistening against her + Like flies on a fat white face. + + The thick-witted drunkard on the park bench + Touches a girl's breast + That throbs with its own ruthless and stupid delight. + The new-born child crawls in his mother's filth. + Life, the sleep walker, + Lifts toward the skies + An immense gesture of indecency. + + NEW YORK + + With huge diaphanous feet, + March the leaden velvet elephants, + Pressing the bodies back into the earth. + + SUNSET: BATTERY PARK + + From cliffs of houses, + Sunlit windows gaze down upon me + Like undeniable eyes, + Millions of bronze eyes, + Unassailable, + Obliterating all they see: + The warm contiguous crowd in the street below + Chills, + Mists, + Drifts past those hungry eyes of Eternity, + Melts seaward and deathward + To the ocean. + + CROWDS + + The sky along the street a gauzy yellow: + The narrow lights burn tall in the twilight. + + The cool air sags, + Heavy with the thickness of bodies. + I am elated with bodies. + They have stolen me from myself. + I love the way they beat me to life, + Pay me for their cruelties. + In the close intimacy I feel for them + There is the indecency I like. + + I belong to them, + To these whom I hate; + And because we can never know each other, + Or be anything to each other, + Though we have been the most, + I sell so much of me that could bring a better price. + + RIOTS + + As if all the birds rushed up in the air, + Fluttering; + Hoots, calls, cries. + I never knew such a monster even in child dreams. + + It grows: + Glass smashed; + Stores shut; + Windows tight closed; + Dull, far-off murmurs of voices. + + Blood-- + The soft, sticky patter of falling drops in the silence. + Everything inundated. + Faces float off in a red dream. + Still the song of the sweet succulent patter. + + + Blood-- + I think it oozes from my finger tips. + --Or maybe it drips from the brow of Jesus. + + THE CITY AT NIGHT + + Life wriggles in and out + Through the narrow ways + And circuitous passages: + Something monstrous and horrible, + A passion without any master, + Male sexual fluid trickling through the darkness + And setting fire to whatever it touches. + + That is the master + Bestowing a casual caress on a slave. + Quiver under it! + + VANITIES + + BREAD POEMS + + LULLABY + + I lean my heart against the soft bosomed night: + A white globed breast, + And warm and silent flowing, + The milk of the moon. + + EMBARKATION OF CYTHERA + + Like jellied flowers + My inflated curves + Melt in the peaceful stagnance of the bath. + If I were to die + I would resist the final agony + With only a faint quiver + From my escaping thighs. + + CHRISTIAN LUXURIES + + The red fountain of shame gushes up from my heart. + I throw back my long hair and the fountain floats it out + Like a fiery fan. + My wide stretched arms are white coral branches. + The liquid shadows seek between my amber breasts. + + But the fire is cool. + It cannot burn me. + + NARROW FLOWERS + + I am a gray lily. + My roots are deep. + I cannot lift my hands + For one thin yellow butterfly. + Yet last night I grew up to a star. + My shade swirled mistily + Seven mountains high. + I lifted my face to another face. + The moon made a burning shadow on my brow. + Washed by the light, + My sharp breasts silvered. + My dance was an arc of mist + From west to east. + + EYES + + There are arms of ice around me, + And a hand of ice on my heart. + If they should come to bury me + I would not flinch or start. + For eyes are freezing me-- + Eyes too cold for hate. + I think the ground, + Because it is dark, + A warmer place to wait. + + AFTER YOUTH + + Oh, that mysterious singing sadness of youth! + Exotic colors in the lamplit darkness of wet streets, + Musk and roses in the twilight, + The moon in the park like a golden balloon... + + Then to awaken and find the shadows fled, + The music gone... + Empty, bleak! + My soul has grown very small and shriveled in my body. + It no longer looks out. + It rattles around, + And inside my body it begins to look, + Staring all around inside my body, + Like a crab in a crevice, + Staring with bulging eyes + At the strange place in which it finds itself. + + THE SHADOW THAT WALKS ALONE + + The silence tugs at my breast + With formless lips, + Like a heavy baby, + Attenuates me, + Draws me through myself into it. + I sit in the womb of an idiot, + Helpless before its mouthing tenderness. + The huge flap ears are attentive, + And the soundless face bends toward me + In horrible lovingness. + + BIBLE TRUTH + + To die... + Oh, cool river! + To float there with nothing to resist-- + + One ripple of silence spreads out from another. + My spirit widens so, + Circle beyond circle. + I hold up the stars no longer with the pupils of my eyes. + Hands, legs, arms float off from me. + I melt like flakes of snow. + + I am no more opposed. + I am no more. + + THE MATERNAL BREAST + + I walked straight and long, + But I never found you. + I was looking for a hill of a hundred breasts, + A hill modeled after the statues of Diana of the Ephesians. + I was looking for a hill of mounds hairy with grass, + And a place to lie down. + + AIR FOR G STRING + + White hands of God + With fingers like strong twigs flowering + Rock me in leaves of iron, + Leaves of blue. + + Hands of God + Fashioned of clouds + Have finger tips that balance the almond white moon. + The pale sky is a flower + White tipped and pink tipped with dawn. + White hands of God gather the blossoms with fingers that hold me, + Cloud fingers like milk in the azure night, + Weaving strong chords. + + DESTINY + + I am lost in the vast cave of night. + No sound but the far-off tinkle of stars, + And the cry of a bird + Muffled in shadows. + + The light flows in remotely + Through the hollow moon, + Dim strange brilliance + From waters beyond the sky. + Groping, + I listen to the harsh tinkle of the far-off stars, + Feel the clammy shadows about my shoulders. + + THE RED CROSS + + HECTIC + + I + + Ruby winged pains flash through me, + Jewel winged agonies: + They vanish, + Carrying me with them + Without my knowing it. + + II + + Pain sends out long tentacles + And sucks. + When I have given up struggling + He takes me into his arms. + + ISOLATION WARD + + We are the separate centers of consciousness + Of all the universes. + We vibrate statically on a trillion golden wires. + Our trillion golden fingers twine in the weltering darkness, + And grasp tremblingly, + Aware in agony + Of the things we can never know. + + THE RED CROSS + + Antiseptic smells that corrode the nostrils + Crumble me, + Eat me deep; + And my garments disintegrate: + First my nightgown, + Leaving my naked arms and legs disjointed, + Sprawled about the bed in postures meaningless to the point of + obscenity. + + My breasts shrivel, + The nipples drawn like withered plums + To the eyes of the bright young nurse. + I am nothing but a dull eye myself, + An eye out of a socket, + Bursting, + Contorted with hideous wisdom. + + Eye to eye + We fight in the death throes, + Myself and the young nurse. + Her firm, crisp aproned bosom + Leans toward the bed, + As she smooths the rumpled pillow back + With long cool fingers. + + HOSPITAL NIGHT + + I am Will-o'-the-Wisp. + I float in a little pool of delirium, + Phosphorescent velvet. + My fire is like a breath + That blows my illness in circles, + Widening it so far + That I cannot see the edge. + It is one with the night sky. + My fire has blown this vastness, + But I strain and flicker trying to escape from it. + I want to exist without the darkness + That makes my breath so bright. + I want the morning to thin my light. + + DOMESTIC CANTICLE + + SPRING SONG + + Sap crashes suddenly through dead roots: + Sap that bites, + Harsh, + Impatient, + Bitter as gold. + + My God, my sisters, how dark, how silent, how heavy is earth! + Shoulders strain against this eternity, + Against the trickling loam. + Earth dropped on the heart like a nerveless hand: + On the red mouth + Earth coils, + Heavy as a serpent. + Light has come back to the darkness, + To the shadow, + To the coolness of blackened leaves. + + HOME AGAIN + + Where I used to be + I could hear the sea. + The black ragged palm fronds flung themselves against + the twilight sky. + The moon stared up from the water like a fish's eye. + I had the loneliness that sings. + It made me light and gave me wings. + + Is it the dust and the iron railings and the blank red brick + That makes me sick? + There is no space to be lonely any more + And crumbling feet on a city street + Sound past the door. + + TO A SICK CHILD + + At the end of the day + The sun rusts. + The street is old and quiet. + The houses are of iron. + The shadows are iron. + Shrill screams of children scrape the iron sky. + Let us lock ourselves in the light. + Let the sun nail us to the hot earth with his spikes of fire, + And perhaps when the darkness rushes past + It will forget us. + + LOVE SONG + + (To C. K. S.) + + Little father, + Little mother, + Little sister, + Little brother, + Little lover, + How can I go on living + With you away from me? + + How can I get up in the morning + And go to bed at night, + And you not here? + How can I bear the sunrise and the sunset, + And the moonrise and the moonset, + And the flowers in the garden? + + How can I bear them, + You, + My little father, + Little mother, + Little sister, + Little brother, + Little lover? + + QUARREL + + Abruptly, from a wall of clear cold silence + Like an icy glass, + Myself looked out at me + And would not let me pass. + I wanted to reach you + Before it was too late; + But my frozen image barred the way + With vacant hate. + + MY CHILD + + Tentacles thrust imperceptibly into the future + Helplessly sense the fire. + A serpentine nerve + Impelled to lengthen itself generation after generation + Pierces the labyrinth of flames + To rose-colored extinction. + + THE TUNNEL + + I + + I have made you a child in the womb, + Holding you in sweet and final darkness. + All day as I walk out + I carry you about. + I guard you close in secret where + Cold eyed people cannot stare. + I am melted in the warm dear fire, + Lover and mother in the same desire. + Yet I am afraid of your eyes + And their possible surprise. + Would you be angry if I let you know + That I carried you so? + + II + + I could kiss you to death + Hoping that, your protest obliterated, + You would be + Utterly me. + Yet I know--how well!-- + Like a shell, + Hollow and echoing, + Death would be, + With a roar of the past + Like the roar of the sea. + And what is lifeless I cannot kill! + So you would make death work your will. + + III + + In most intimate touch we meet, + Lip to lip, + Breast to breast, + Sweet. + Suddenly we draw apart + And start. + Like strangers surprised at a road's turning + We see, + I, the naked you; + You, the naked me. + There was something of neither of us + That covered the hours, + And we have only touched each other's bodies + Through veils of flowers. + But let us smile kindly, + Like those already dead, + On the warm flesh + And the marriage bed. + + IV + + The blanched stars are withered with light. + The moon is pale with trying to remember something. + Light, straining for a stale birth, + Distends the darkness. + + I, in the midst of this travail, + Bring forth-- + The solitude is so vast + I am glad to be freed of it. + Is it the moon I see there, + Or does my own white face + Hang in blank agony against the sky + As if blinded with giving? + + V + + Little inexorable lips at my breast + Drink me out of me + In a fine sharp stream. + Little hands tear me apart + To find what they need. + + I am weak with love of you, + Little body of hate! + + BRUISED SUNLIGHT + + WATER MOODS + + RAIN ON THE SEASHORE + + Curling petals of rain lick silver tongues. + Fluffy spray is blown loosely up between thin silver lips + And slithers, tinkling in hard green ice, down the gray rocks. + + White darkness-- + An expressionless horizon stares with stone eyes. + The sea lifts its immense self heavily + And falls down in sickly might. + + The emptiness is like a death of which no one shall ever know. + + SHIP MASTS + + They stand + Stark as church spires; + Bare stalks + That will blossom + (Tomorrow perhaps) + Into flowers of the wind. + + MONOCHROME + + Gray water, + Gray sky drifting down to the sea. + The night, + Old, ugly, and stern, + Lies upon the water, + Quivering in the twilight + Like a tortured belly. + + ANTIQUE + + Clouds flung back + Make fan-shaped rays of faded crimson + Brocaded on dim blue satin; + Through the wrinkled dust-blue water + The little boat + Glides above its sunken shadow. + + ECHO LOOKS AT HERSELF + + The ship passes in the night + And drags jagged reflections + Like gilded combs + Through the obscure water. + Spun glass daisies float on a gold-washed mirror. + + SPELL + + In the dark I can hear the patter. + Bare white feet are running across the water. + White feet as bright as silver + Are flashing under dull blue dresses. + Wet palms beat, + Impatiently, + Petulantly, + Slapping the wet rocks. + + HUNGRY SHADOWS + + RAINY TWILIGHT + + Dim gold faces float in the windows. + Dim gold faces and gilded arms... + They are clinging along the silver ladders of rain; + They are climbing with ivory lamps held high, + Starry lamps + Over which the silver ladders + Thicken into nets of twilight. + + THE STORM + + Herds of black elephants, + Rushing over the plains, + Trample the stars. + The ivory tusk of the leader + (Or is it the moon?) + Flashes, and is gone. + Tree tops bend; + Crash; + Fire from hoofs; + And still they rush on, + Trampling the stars, + Bellowing, + Roaring. + + NYMPHS + + The drift of shadows on the mountainside, + Blue and purple gold! + Purple dust sifting through fingers of ivory: + Cool purple on ivory breasts. + I see arms and breasts, + Upturned chins, + Slanting through the dust of purple leaves: + Ivory and gold, + Bare breasts and laughing eyes, + That drift on the shadowy surf + And surge against the side of the mountain. + + WINTER DAWN + + Cloudy dawn flower unfolds; + Moon moth gyrates slowly; + Snow maiden lets down her hair, + And in one shining silence, + It slips to earth. + + THE WALL OF NIGHT + + SPRINGTIME TOO SOON + + The moon is a cool rose in a blue bowl. + There are no more birds. + The last leaf has fallen. + The trees in the twilight are naked old women. + + The moon is an old woman at the door of her tomb. + Clouds combed out in the wind + Are gray hair she has wound about her neck. + The water is an old gray face that mirrors the springtime. + + STARS + + Like naked maidens + Dancing with no thought of lovers, + Blinking stars with dewy silver breasts + Pass through the darkness. + White and eager, + They glide on + Toward the gray meshed web of dawn + + And the mystery of morning. + Then, + About me, + The white cloud walls + Stand as sternly as sepulchers, + And from all sides + Peer and linger the startled faces, + Pale in the harshness of the sunlight. + + NIGHT MUSIC + + Through the blue water of night + Rises the white bubble of silence-- + Rises, + And breaks: + The shivered crystal bell of the moon, + Dying away in star splinters. + The still mists bear the sound + Beyond the horizon. + + NOCTURNE OF WATER + + A shining bird plunges to the deep, + Becomes entangled with seaweed, + And never more emerges. + Pale golden feathers drift across the sky, + Fire feathered clouds, + Riding the weightless billows of back velvet + On the horizon. + + THE LONG MOMENT + + A white sigh clouds the fields + Into quietness. + Above the billowed snow + I drift, + One year, + Two years, + Three years. + Hurt eyes mist in the blue behind me. + The moon uncoils in glistening ropes + And I glide downward along the dripping rays + To a marble lake. + + DESIGNS + + I + + Night + + Fields of black tulips + And swarms of gold bees + Drinking their bitter honey. + + II + + New Moon + + Above the gnarled old tree + That clings to the bleakest side of the mountain, + A torch of ivory and gold; + And across the sky, + The silver print + Of spirit feet, + Fled from the wonder. + + III + + Tropic Moon + + The glowing anvil, + Beaten by the winds; + Star sparks, + Burning and dying in the heavens; + The furnace glare + Red + On the polished palm leaves. + + IV + + Winter Moon + + A little white thistle moon + Blown over the cold crags and fens: + A little white thistle moon + Blown across the frozen heather. + + ARGO + + White sails + Unbillowed by any wind, + The moon ship, + Among shoals of cloud, + Stranded stars, + Bare bosoms, + And netted hair of light, + On the shores of the world. + + JAPANESE MOON + + Thick clustered wistaria clouds, + A young girl moon in a mist of almond flowers, + Boughs and boughs of light; + Then a round-faced ivory lady + Nodding among fading chrysanthemums. + + HOT MOON + + Moon rise. + Great gong sounds, shining-- + Little feet run away. + Loud and solemn, the funeral gong. + Little feet run away. + + THE NAIAD + + The moon rises, + Glistening, + Naked white, + Out of her stream. + + Wet marble shoulders + Shake star drops on the clouds. + + FLOODTIDE + + Across the shadows of the surf + The lights of the ship + Twinkle despondently. + The clinging absorbent gray darkness + Sucks them into itself: + Drinks the pale golden tears greedily. + + MOUNTAIN PASS IN AUGUST + + Night scatters grapes for the harvest. + The moon burns like a leaf. + Along the mountain path + A thin streak of light + Creeps hungrily with its silver belly to the earth. + The old hound laps up the shadows. + Her teats drip the brighter darkness. + + CONTEMPORARIES + + HARMONICS + + YOUNG MEN + + Fauns, + Eternal pagans, + Beautiful and obscene, + Leaping through the street + With a flicker of hoofs, + And a flash of tails, + + You want dryads + And they give you prostitutes. + + YOUNG GIRLS + + Your souls are wet flowers, + Bathed in kisses and blood. + Golden Clyties, + The wheel of light + Rushes over your breasts. + + HOUSE SPIRITS + + Women are flitting around in their shells. + Pale dilutions of the waters of the world + Come through the windows. + Back and forth the women glide in their little waters; + Cellar to garret and garret to cellar, + Winding in and out under door arches and down passages, + They and their spawn, + In the shell, + In the cavern. + + You may come in the shell to overpower her, + Males, + But in the shell, in the shell. + She cannot be torn from the shell without dying; + And what is the pleasure of intercourse with the dead? + + AT THE MEETING HOUSE + + Souls as dry as autumn leaves, + The color long since out. + + The organ plays. + The leaves crackle and rustle a little; + Then sink down. + + Old ladies with gray moss on their chins, + Old men with camphor and cotton packed around their heads, + Thin child spirits, sharp and shrill as whistles. + + Gray old trees; + Gaunt old woods; + Souls as dry as leaves + After autumn is past. + + CHRISTIANS + + Blind, they storm up from the pit. + You gave them the force, + You, when You poured the measure of agony into them. + Didn't You know what it would be, + Giving blind people fire? + Not gold and red and amber fire, + But marsh fire. + Fire of ice, + Suffering forged into suffering! + + They are coming up now. + The sword is uplifted in the hands of the monster. + + My valiant little puppets, + Did you think you could stand out against this? + Pierrot and Columbine breeding in the flowers.... + + There must be no flowers. + + DEVIL'S CRADLE + + Black man hanged on a silver tree; + (Down by the river, + Slow river, + White breast, + White face with blood on it.) + Black man creaks in the wind, + Knees slack. + Brown poppies, melting in moonlight, + Swerve on glistening stems + Across an endless field + To the music of a blood white face + And a tired little devil child + Rocked to sleep on a rope. + + WOMEN + + Crystal columns, + When they bend they crack; + Brittle souls, + Conforming, yet not conforming-- + Mirrors. + + Masculine souls pass across the mirrors: + Whirling, gliding ecstasies-- + Retreating, retreating, + Dimly, dimly, + Like dreams fading across the mirrors. + + Then the mirrors, + Stark and brilliant in the sunshine, + Blank as the desert, + Blank as the Sphinx, + Winking golden eyes in the twinkles of light, + Silent, immutable, vacuous infinity, + Illimitable capacity for absorption, + Absorbing nothing. + + Have the shapes and the shadows been swallowed up + In your recesses without depth, + You drinkers of life, + Twinkling maliciously + Your golden yellow eyes, + Mirrors winking in the sunshine? + + PENELOPE + + Gray old spinners, + Weaving with the crafty fibers of your souls; + Nothing was given you but those impalpable threads. + + Yet you have bound the race, + Stranglers, + With your silver spun mysteries. + All the cruel, + All the mad, + The foolish, + And the beautiful, too: + It all belongs to you + Since the first time + That you began to drop the filmy threads + When the world was half asleep. + + Sometimes you are young girls; + Sometimes there are roses in your hair. + But I know you-- + Sitting back there in the hollow shadows of your wombs. + The crafty fibers of your souls + Are woven in and out + With the fibers of life. + + POOR PEOPLE'S DREAMS + + Sometimes women with eyes like wet green berries + Glide across the slick mirror of their own smiles + And vanish through lengths of gold and marble drawing rooms. + The marble smiles, + As sensuous as snow; + Hips of the Graces; + + Shoulders of Clytie; + Breasts frozen as foam, + Frozen as camelia bloom; + Mounds of marble flesh, + Inexplicable wonder of white.... + + I dream about statuesque beauties + Who look from the shadows of opera boxes; + Or elegant ladies in novels of eighteen thirty, + At the hunt ball... + Reflections in a polish floor, + A portrait by Renoir, + A Degas dancing girl, + English country houses, + An autumn afternoon in the Bois, + Something I have read of... + In sleep one vision retreating through another, + Like mirrors being doors to other mirrors, + Satin, and lace, and white shoulders, + And elegant ladies, + Dancing, dancing. + + FOR WIVES AND MISTRESSES + + Death, + Being a woman, + Being passive like all final things, + Being a mother, + Waits. + + Shining faces + Gray and melt into her flesh. + Death envies those asleep in her, + Little children who have come back, + Fiery faces, + Bright for a moment in the darkness, + Extinguished softly in her womb. + + PORTRAITS + + PORTRAIT OF RICH OLD LADY + + Old lady talks, + Spins from her lips + Warp and woof + Of teapots, tables, napery, + Sanitary toilets, + Old bedsteads, pictures on walls, + And fine lace, + Spins a cocoon of this secondary life. + + Warm and snug is old lady's belly. + Old lady makes Venus Aphrodite + Parvenue. + Old lady + Arranges places for courtesans + In warm outbuildings on back streets. + + NIGGER + + Nigger with flat cheeks and swollen purple lips; + Nigger with loose red tongue; + Flat browed nigger, + Your skull peaked at the zenith, + The stretched glistening skin + Covered with tight coiled springs of hair: + I am up here cold. + I am white man. + You are still warm and sweet + With the darkness you were born in. + + THE MAIDEN MOTHER + + He has a squat body, + Glowering brows, + And bulging eyes. + Lustful contemplation of the meat pie + Is written all over his sweating face. + + The thin woman with the meek voice, + Who has carried him so long in her body + And despairs of giving him birth, + Watches over him in secret + With bitter and resentful tenderness. + + A PIOUS WOMAN + + You can bury your face in her thick soul of cotton batting + And smell candle wax and church incense. + When she dies she must be burned. + Laid in the ground she would only soak up moisture + And get soggy, + As now she has a way of soaking up tears + Never meant for her. + + A VERY OLD ROSE JAR + + She ran across the lawn after the cat + And I saw through the old maid, as through a shadow, + A young girl in a white muslin dress running to meet her lover. + There was clashing of cymbals, + And the flash of nereids' arms in autumn leaves. + A sharp high note died out like an ascending light. + Something sweet and wanton faded from the old maid's lips-- + Something of Pierrot chasing after love, + A bacchante dying in her sleep, + A shadow, + And a gray cat. + + THE NIXIE + + He lies in cool shadows safe under rocks, + His eyes brown stones, + Worn smooth and soft, + But uncrumbled. + He reaches forth covert child-claws + To tickle the silver bellies of the little blind fish + As they swim secretly above him. + He laughs-- + The school splinters, panic stricken. + + As we stare through the lucid gold water + He gazes up at us from his shadowy retreat + In combative safety. + There are times when he pretends to himself that he is a god, + Water god, land god, god-in-the-sky. + We cannot laugh at his grotesquerie. + We are wistful before the pathetic gallantries of his + imagination. + + OLD LADIES' VALHALLA + + I am thinking of a little house, + A pretty gray silk dress, + And a little maid with a tidy white apron. + + I am thinking of thin yellow angels + Flying out of Sevres china tea cups, + And a cool spirit with slanting green eyes, + Who peers at me through the screen of plants + I have placed in the corner between the hearth and the window. + I am thinking of the peace in one's own little home + When the afternoon sunshine drips on the shiny floor, + And the rugs are in order, + And the roses in the bowl plunge into shadow + Like pink nymphs into a pool, + While there is no sound to be heard above the hum + of the teakettle + Save the benevolent buzzing of flies in the clean sash curtain. + + PORTRAITS OF POETS + + I + + (For L. R.) + + To rush over dark waters, + A swift bird with cruel talons; + To seize life-- + Your life for her-- + To hold it, + Hold it struggling-- + To kiss it. + + II + + Crystal self-containment, + Giving out only what is sent. + Startled, + The circumference retreats + As it mounts higher, flamelike, + Still and clear without radiance, + Ascending without self-explanation. + + A skeleton falls apart + With the dignity of comprehensible pathos, + The bones bleached by denial. + + III + + With the impalpable lightness of May breezes + Begins a battle of flower petals: + Cowering in the primrose whirlwind his lips have blown, + The little grotesque with the shattered heart, + Fearful, + Yet sinister in his fearfulness. + + THEODORE DREISER + + The man body jumbled out of the earth, half formed, + Clay on the feet, + Heavy with the lingering might of chaos. + The man face so high above the feet + As if lonesome for them like a child. + The veins that beat heavily with the music they but half + understood + Coil languidly around the heart + And lave it in the death stream + Of a grand impersonal benignance. + + PIETA + + The child-- + Warm chubby thighs, + Fat brown arms, + An unsurprised face-- + Cries for jam. + The mother buys him with jam. + + An old woman, + Tottering on lean leather skinned legs, + Sucks with glazing eyes + The crystal silken milk + That flows from the death wound + In a young flower-soft, jewel-soft body. + + BRAZIL THROUGH A MIST + + THE RANCH + + TROPICAL LIFE + + White flower, + Your petals float away + But I hardly hear them. + + TWENTY-FOUR HOURS + + The day is so long and white, + A road all dust, + Smooth monotony; + And the night at the end, + A hill to be climbed, + Slowly, laboriously, + While the stars prick our hands + Like thistles. + + RAINY SEASON + + A flock of parrakeets + Hurled itself through the mist; + Harsh wild green + And clamor-tongued + Through the dim white forest. + They vanished, + And the lips of Silence + Sucked at the roots of Life. + + MAIL ON THE RANCH + + The old man on the mule + Opens the worn saddle bags, + And takes out the papers. + + From the outer world + The thoughts come stabbing, + To taunt, baffle, and stir me to revolt. + I beat against the sky, + Against the winds of the mountain, + But my cries, grown thin in all this space, + Are diluted with emptiness... + Like the air, + Thin and wide, + Touching everything, + Touching nothing. + + THE VAMPIRE BAT + + What was it that came out of the night? + What was it that went away in the night? + The little brown hen is huddled in the fence corner, + Eyes already glazing. + How should she know what came out of the night, + Or what was taken away in the night? + A shadow passed across the moon. + The wind rustled in the mango trees. + And now, in the morning, + The little brown hen is huddled in the fence corner, + Eyes already glazing; + Because a shadow passed across the moon, + And the wind rustled in the mango trees. + + CONSERVATISM + + The turkeys, + Like hoop-skirted old ladies + Out walking, + Display their solemn propriety. + + A terrible force, + Hungry and destructive, + Emanates from their mistily blinking eyes. + + LITTLE PIGS + + Little tail quivering, + Wrinkled snout thrusting up the mud: + He will find God + If he keeps on like that. + + THE SILLY EWE + + The silly ewe comes smelling up to me. + Her tail wriggles without hinges, + Both ends of it at once and equal. + Yesterday the parrot bit her; + Last week the jaguar ate her young one; + But experience teaches her nothing. + + THE SNAKE + + The chickens are at home in the barnyard, + The pigs in the swill, + And the flowers in the garden; + But where do you belong, + With your lacquered coils, + O snake? + + THE YEAR + + Days and days float by. + On the sides of the mountains + Blue shadows shift + And sift into silence. + Morning... + The cock crows. + There is that rosy glow on the mountain's edge; + Jose in the door of his hut; + Maria's lace bobbins + Tapping, tapping. + Evening... + The parrot's shrill cry; + Pale silver green stars. + Night... + The ghosts of dead Joses + And dead Marias + Sitting in the moonlight. + Peace-- + Depressing, + Interminable + Peace. + + BURNING MOUNTAINS + + I + + A herder set fire to the grass + On the other side of the valley, + And now a beautiful Indian woman + Bends, whirls, undulates, + Tosses her gold braceleted arms into the air-- + Then sinks into her gray veil. + + II + + Fire, dying in smoke, + You stir behind the haze + Like a warrior + Who threatens in his sleep. + + VILLA NOVA DA SERRA + + The mountains are as dull and sodden + As drunkards' faces, + And the white forgetfulness of rain + Is like a delirium. + Along the filthy crooked streets of the little town, + Street lamps float in pools of mist-- + The eyes of children being beaten. + + RAIN IN THE MOUNTAINS + + Like inexorable peace, + The mists march through the mountains. + One by one the grim peaks sink into the cold arms + of the unspoken. + The little town with the pink and white houses + Looses its hold on the ridge of hills + And floats among cloud tops. + A shaggy donkey, cropping grass in the sequestered church yard, + Walks, with a leisurely air, + Into a wind driven abyss. + + TROPICAL WINTER + + The afternoon is frozen with memories, + Radiant as ice. + The sun sets amidst the agued trembling of the leaves, + Sinking right down through the gold air + Into the arms of the sea. + The enameled wings of the palm trees + Keep shivering, shivering, + Beating the gold air thin.... + + TALK ON THE RANCH + + It is cold in the circle of mountains, + A fireless hearth. + The stars drift by like autumn leaves. + Only the rustle-- + Then, close together, + Our talk, + For and counter, + One grating against the other, + Rubs a little fire + And we warm each other + There in the midst of the hollow clammy circle. + + LES MALADIES DES PAYS CHAUDS + + PRIDE OF RACE + + I saw his young Anglo-Saxon form + In its white sailor clothes + Cleave through the scampering yellow Latin crowd, + As white and clean as the blade of an archangel; + And, as he reeled along, gloriously drunk, + Those little black and gold dung beetles + Seemed to be pushing and racing over his body. + + DON QUIXOTE SOJOURNS IN RIO DE JANEIRO + + White roses climb the wall of night. + A pale face looks from a window in the sky. + O Moon, is it because you have seen her that you are beautiful? + Is she happy among the saints? + I placed white flowers in the coffin. + Are they the blossoms that lie scattered along the horizon, + Tangled in your light? + Dim stars drop into the sea. + So you give my flowers back to me, do you, Bella Dona? + I might gather the petals and carry them to Antonietta to trim + her hats. + So much for life with a little negro milliner + In the Rua Chile! + + CONVENT MUSINGS + + Eleven thousand white-faced virgins in the sky. + The eyes of Our Lady + Smiling through a rift of cloud. + + I see Sister Maria da Gloria's fat shadow + Pass across the whitewashed wall by the window.... + + Eleven thousand white-faced virgins-- + Stars from a broken rosary-- + The Southern Cross-- + Thrum, thrum, my fingers on the bench. + I sometimes think of God + As an enormous emptiness + Into which we must all enter at last, + Our Lady forgive me. + + GUITARRA + + "An orange tree without fruit, + So am I without loves," + His heavy lidded eyes sang up to her. + Her glance dropped on her golden globe of breast, + And on the baby. + + NOVEMBER + + Foreign sailors in the streets + Are as sad a sight as wild geese in the winter-- + + There was one boy with those strange young blue eyes + Who looked at me; + And a long, long time after he had passed + The light of his soul got to me-- + So long on the way-- + Like the light of a dead star. + + What makes you look so lonesome, Blue Eyes? + + THE COMING OF CHRIST + + THE DEATH OF COLUMBINE + + DUET + + Pierrot sings. + The moon, a clown like himself, + Stares down upon him + With vacuous tenderness. + For a moment the night is filled with rice powder + And spangled gauze. + Then two shades embracing each other + Find in their arms + Only the darkness. + + FROM A MAN DYING ON A CROSS + + The pains in my palms are threads of sightless fire + Drawn like fiery veins through blackened marble walls, + Crashing with a dull roar + To the ends of the earth. + + Winey peace.... + My sick blood purrs. + Milky bosoms float through red hair, + Gaunt faces and sick eyes + Beside her face. + I debauch them with my forgiveness. + Only her, I cannot forgive. + + Moonlight trembles as the silk of her garment, + Perfumed silk. + The cross makes a long harsh shadow + Rigid on the sand. + Her white feet stir across the shadow. + + LAGNIAPPE + + You in the quiet garden, + You with the death sweet smile, + Before you speak of love to me + Go out and hate awhile. + + The kind devil + Has a tolerant grin. + He flings the golden gates out wide + And lets poor people in. + He warms them in his bosom + And guards their pain. + He shows them hell fields that are bright + And skies gentle with rain. + + But up in paradise + The stern Lord is wise, + And Michael with his flaming sword + Puts out the angels' eyes. + + HAIL MARY! + + Pierrette is dead! + Between her narrow little breasts + They have laid a cross of lead. + Her tight pale lips are sunken. + Her fleshless fingers clutch the pall. + Why did she have to die like that, + And she so small? + + THE DEATH OF COLUMBINE + + White breast beaten in sea waves, + Hair tangled in foam, + Lonely sky, + Desolate horizon, + Pale and shining clouds: + All this desolate and shining sea is no place for you, + My dead Columbine. + + And the waves will bite your breast; + And the wind, that does not know death from life, + Will leap upon you and leer into your eyes + And suck at your dead lips. + + Oh, my little Columbine, + You go farther and farther away from me, + Out where there are no ships + And the solemn clouds + Soar across the somber horizon. + + PIERROT LAUGHS + + You are old, Pierrot, + But I do not laugh + As in harlequinade + You totter down the path. + Now you are old, Pierrot, + And drool to your guitar, + I do not cast you off. + Though your love songs are as feeble as a winter fly's + I do not scoff. + Exultant + I cast back on you + What you gave me, + And bind you with the unasked love + That has kept me from being free! + + THE TRANSMIGRATION OF CALIBAN + + Once I had a little brother, + An ugly little brother that was I. + I was still in the nursery + When they nailed him to a clean white cross, + And said he was dead. + He flapped there all day, + Thin and stiff as a jumping jack. + + But when I had gone to bed, + And the lights were out, + And the muslin curtains rustled in white secrecy, + And through the thin brown glass like onion skin + I could see the bright moon sag to the tree tops + With a heaviness I dimly understood, + While the haggard branches gauntly strained, + As useless to the moon as she to them, + I was rocked in an orange and umber cradle, + A rosy bubble light with fireshine + Floating atop the cold, + And my little brother was burning merrily, + His twisted figure + A writhing grotesque. + + Yet his face never moved + And never burnt up. + And when I had drifted asleep + I still saw it + Like a reflection trapped in a mirror. + And I couldn't brush it out! + I couldn't brush it out! + + GUNDRY + + There are little blood flecks on the snow. + There is blood in the heart of the white hyacinth. + I saw her pale body harsh as a flash of lightning + Between the gray torsos of the trees. + She had a little child. + She held a little child in her breast. + She went quickly through the dim forest. + I have seen her feet. + They are as white as ivory. + Where she ran there are little red tracks. + And it is not yet springtime! + + VIENNESE WALTZ + + Dresden china shepherdesses + Whirl in the silver sunshine: + Columbine stars + Float in gauze petticoats of light.... + Little Columbine ghosts, wrinkled and old, + Smelling of jasmine and camphor: + Prim arms folded over immaculate breasts.... + + The pirouetting tune dies.... + Stars and little faded faces, + Waltzing, waltzing, + Shoot slowly downward + On tinkling music, + Dusty little flowers + Sinking into oblivion. + + After the music, + Quiet, + The glacial period renewed, + Monsters on earth, + A mad conflagration of worlds on ardent nights-- + + These too vanishing-- + Silence unending. + + RESURRECTION + + IMMORTALITY + + Death is a child of stone. + Death is a little white stone goat. + The little goat child dances motionless. + Little kid feet make a circle around the world: + Bas-relief of Death, + Little stone goats capering across the clouds. + + Perhaps Death is nearest in the spring. + Then Her flower clouds the woods with white blossoms, + Apple blossoms, quince blossoms, + Pear snow. + These are the flowers that drift in the hair of the dead. + The sun shines on stone eyelids + That melt with light. + This smile is a pale happiness; + It glows motionless + On the rocky hillside and the long stems of trees. + There are no shadows in this happy light: + The glow beat by little goat hoofs + Chiseled across the clouds in motionless delight, + While suns fade behind crumbling hillsides + And hungry illusions vanish + In generation after generation. + + AUTUMN NIGHT + + The moon is as complacent as a frog. + She sits in the sky like a blind white stone, + And does not even see Love + As she caresses his face with her contemptuous light. + She reaches her long white shivering fingers + Into the bowels of men. + Her tender superfluous probing into all that pollutes + Is like the immodesty of the mad. + She is a mad woman holding up her dress + So that her white belly shines. + Haughty, + Impregnable, + Ridiculous, + Silent and white as a debauched queen, + Her ecstasy is that of a cold and sensual child. + + She is Death enjoying Life, + Innocently, + Lasciviously. + + VENUS' FLY TRAP + + A wax bubble moon trembles on the honey-blue horizon. + Softly heated by your breast + Pearl wax languorously unfolds her lily lips of mist, + Swells about you, + Weaves you into herself through each moist pore, + Absorbs you deliciously, + Destroys you. + + SUICIDE + + A dirty little beetle + Peers into motionless eyes + Transfixed to their depths + As by shining needles. + Limbs are taut in ultimate resentment. + A bare sky confronts an upturned face. + Like a wheel vanishing in speed + The corpse, containing everything, + Has swallowed itself. + + LEAVES + + I + + The women hold a child up for a shield, + And speak of it tenderly, + Seeing it bloody. + + II + + The lovers throw back the scented coverlet + And are afraid. + Seeing Death in their own nakedness, + They shroud it with flowers. + + III + + The corpse was stiff like an arrow. + As they carried it past the onlookers + It pierced the crowd with its life. + Blank white faces floated back + In terror of its vividness. + + IV + + The man was dead. + It was seen to that he was buried. + Again and again they dug the bones up, + But when they could no longer find the bones + They groped for the proof of death + In fear of the resurrection. + + ALLEGRO + + (At the Cemetery) + + The mounds stir in the sunshine. + Bones clack a light staccato. + Bare wrist bones, + Thigh bones, + Ankle bones, + Kick the soil loose. + + Moldy draperies flutter back and forth through the light. + The trees have put on a thin green pretense. + Even the soil pretends to fecundity. + Toothless jaws widen in a smile of real mirth. + Bones lightened of flesh + Flash in the sunshine. + + And afterward + The dead rest in the spring night, + Each in a silence molded to him, + Each in his own night, + A casket with a spangled lining. + The dead rest deep in their happiness. + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Precipitations, by Evelyn Scott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRECIPITATIONS *** + +***** This file should be named 4530.txt or 4530.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/3/4530/ + +Produced by Catherine Daly + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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