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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  997 Arcana Sylvarum

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Charlesde Kay

997 Arcana Sylvarum

HARK!

What booming

Faints on the high-strung ear?

Through the damp woods (so dark

No flowers are blooming)

I hear, I hear

The twang of harps, the leap

Of hairy feet, and know the revel’s ripe,

While, like a coral stripe,

The lizard cool doth creep,

Monster, but monarch there, up the pale Indian Pipe.

Hush!…

Your panting

Will scare them from their game.

Let not a footfall crush

Their rites enchanting!

The deadwood’s flame,

Bellies of murdered fire-flies,

And glimmering moonstones thick with treasured rays

Shall help our round-eyed gaze

Antics unholy to surprise,

Which the ungodly crew round the red lizard plays.

Now!…

No breathing

To spoil the heathenish dance!

Lest from each pendent bough

Poison be seething,—

A hair-fine lance

Pierce to our brain, and slowly slay.

But look your breathless fill, and mark them swing,

Man and maid a-capering,

Ugly, fair, morosely gay,

Round the red lizard smooth, crowned for their wicked king.

Back!…

Inhuman

Are gestures, laughs, and jeers.

Off, ere we lose the track!

Nor man nor woman

May stand your leers,

Shameless and loose, uncovered creatures!

Quick, lest we join their orgies in the dark!

Back! For the madness stark

Is crawling through our natures

To touch the red lizard vile, spread on the damp white bark.