| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 370. The Bacchante to Her Babe |
| | | By Eunice Tietjens |
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Scherzo
COME, sprite, and dance! The sun is up, | |
| The wind runs laughing down the sky | |
| That brims with morning like a cup. | |
| Sprite, we must race him, | |
| We must chase him— | 5 |
| You and I! | |
| And skim across the fuzzy heather— | |
| You and joy and I together | |
| Whirling by! | |
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| You merry little roll of fat!— | 10 |
| Made warm to kiss, and smooth to pat, | |
| And round to toy with, like a cub; | |
| To put one’s nozzle in and rub | |
| And breathe you in like breath of kine, | |
| Like juice of vine, | 15 |
| That sets my morning heart a-tingling, | |
| Dancing, jingling, | |
| All the glad abandon mingling | |
| Of wind and wine! | |
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| Sprite, you are love, and you are joy, | 20 |
| A happiness, a dream, a toy, | |
| A god to laugh with, | |
| Love to chaff with, | |
| The sun come down in tangled gold, | |
| The moon to kiss, and spring to hold. | 25 |
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| There was a time once, long ago, | |
| Long—oh, long since … I scarcely know. | |
| Almost I had forgot … | |
| There was a time when you were not, | |
| You merry sprite, save as a strain, | 30 |
| The strange dull pain | |
| Of green buds swelling | |
| In warm, straight dwelling | |
| That must burst to the April rain. | |
| A little heavy I was then, | 35 |
| And dull—and glad to rest. And when | |
| The travail came | |
| In searing flame … | |
| But, sprite, that was so long ago!— | |
| A century!—I scarcely know. | 40 |
| Almost I had forgot | |
| When you were not. | |
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| So, little sprite, come dance with me! | |
| The sun is up, the wind is free! | |
| Come now and trip it, | 45 |
| Romp and skip it, | |
| Earth is young and so are we. | |
| Sprite, you and I will dance together | |
| On the heather, | |
| Glad with all the procreant earth, | 50 |
| With all the fruitage of the trees, | |
| And golden pollen on the breeze, | |
| With plants that bring the grain to birth, | |
| With beast and bird, | |
| Feathered and furred, | 55 |
| With youth and hope and life and love, | |
| And joy thereof— | |
| While we are part of all, we two— | |
| For my glad burgeoning in you! | |
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| So, merry little roll of fat, | 60 |
| Made warm to kiss and smooth to pat | |
| And round to toy with, like a cub, | |
| To put one’s nozzle in and rub, | |
| My god to laugh with, | |
| Love to chaff with, | 65 |
| Come and dance beneath the sky, | |
| You and I! | |
| Look out with those round wondering eyes, | |
| And squirm, and gurgle—and grow wise! | |
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