I dreamt I saw an eye, a pretty eye,

In your hands,

Glittering, wet and sickening;

Like a dull onyx set in a crown of thorns,

I did not know you were dead

When you dropped it in my lap.

What horrors of human sacrifice

Have you seen, executioner?

What agonies of tortured men

Who sat through nights and nights of pain;

Tongue-tied by the wicked sappor;

Gazing at you with hot imploring eyes?

Those white lilies tossed their little heads then

In the moon-steeped ponds;

There was bouncing gaiety in the crisp chirping

Of the cricket in the undergrowth,

And as the surf-boats splintered the waves

I saw the rainbow in your eyes

And in the flash of your teeth;

As each crystal shone,

I saw sitting hand in hand with melancholy

A little sunny child

Playing at marbles with husks of fallen stars,

Horrors were your flowers then, the bright red bougainvillea.

They delighted you.

Why do you now weep

And offer me this little gift

Of a dull onyx set in a crown of thorns?