This face is a haze more chill than the arctic sea,
Its sleepy and wabbling icebergs crunch as they go.

This is a face of bitter herbs, this an emetic, they
     need no label,
And more of the drug-shelf, laudanum, caoutchouc,
     or hog'slard.

This face is an epilepsy, its wordless tongue gives
     out the earthly cry,
Its veins down the neck distend, its eyes roll till
     they show nothing but their whites,
Its teeth grit, the palms of the hands are cut by the
     turn'd- in nails,
The man falls struggling and foaming to the ground,
     while he speculates well.

This face is bitten by vermin and worms,
And this is some murderer's knife with a half-pull'd

This face owes to the sexton his dismalest fee,
An unceasing death-bell tolls there.


Features of my equals would you trick me with your
     creas'd and cadaverous march?
Well, you cannot trick me.

I see your rounded never-erased flow,
I see 'neath the rims of your haggard and mean

Splay and twist as you like, poke with the tangling
     fores of fishes or rats,
You'll be unmuzzled, you certainly will.

I saw the face of the most smear'd and slobbering
     idiot they had at the asylum,
And I knew for my consolation what they knew not,
I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my
The same wait to clear the rubbish from the fallen
And I shall look again in a score or two of ages,
And I shall meet the real landlord perfect and
     unharm'd, every inch as good as myself.


The Lord advances, and yet advances,
Always the shadow in front, always the reach'd
     hand bringing up the laggards.

Out of this face emerge banners and horses —
    O superb! I see what is coming,
I see the high pioneer- caps, see staves of runners
     clearing the way,
I hear victorious drums.

This face is a life-boat,
This is the face commanding and bearded, it asks no
     odds of the rest,
This face is flavor'd fruit ready for eating,
This face of a healthy honest boy is the programme
     of all good.

These faces bear testimony slumbering or awake,
They show their descent from the Master himself.

Off the word I have spoken I except not one —
    red, white, black, are all deific,
In each house is the ovum, it comes forth after a
     thousand years.

Spots or cracks at the windows do not disturb me,
Tall and sufficient stand behind and make signs to me,
I read the promise and patiently wait.

This is a full-grown lily's face,
She speaks to the limber-hipp'd man near the
     garden pickets,
Come here she blushingly cries, Come night
     to me limberhipp'd man,

Stand at my side till I lean as high as I can
     upon you
Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me,
Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my
     breast and shoulders


The old face of the mother of many children,
Whist! I am fully content.

  By PanEris using Melati.

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