THE CAVES OF JOSEPHINE
Of cave-born entities.
They pant and grunt and squeak and wheeze,
They stampede, yell,
And chase pell-mell.
Through tortuous tunnels walled with light
The pigmy pageant makes its flight,
The last far turn is made,
The swinging flicker-flashes fade,
The clamor and the cries
Are dimmed—the babbling tumult dies.
They pant and grunt and squeak and wheeze,
They stampede, yell,
And chase pell-mell.
Through tortuous tunnels walled with light
The pigmy pageant makes its flight,
The last far turn is made,
The swinging flicker-flashes fade,
The clamor and the cries
Are dimmed—the babbling tumult dies.
The palace rooms are dark, the halls of state,
The Coral Gardens—all are desolate.
No music falls—
The conclaves and the carnivals,
The mystic rites,
The colors bathed in mellow lights,
The throbbing life and mirth
Of all this chambered, nether-earth
Are gone. Nor will one Elf return
To ring the crystal chimes or burn
Strange incense at the pillowed throne,
Because no Elf was ever known
To tread again where mortal man
Has been--nor any of the hybrid clan
Who must have scampered out of there
That day Elijah shot the bear.
The Coral Gardens—all are desolate.
No music falls—
The conclaves and the carnivals,
The mystic rites,
The colors bathed in mellow lights,
The throbbing life and mirth
Of all this chambered, nether-earth
Are gone. Nor will one Elf return
To ring the crystal chimes or burn
Strange incense at the pillowed throne,
Because no Elf was ever known
To tread again where mortal man
Has been--nor any of the hybrid clan
Who must have scampered out of there
That day Elijah shot the bear.
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