For H. V.(1901–1927)
When the Lease Is Up
Walk the horses down the hill
Through the darkening groves;
Pat their rumps and leave the stall;
Even the eyeless cat perceives
Things are not going well.
Fasten the lock on the drawingroom door,
Cover the tables with sheets:
This is the end of the swollen year
W h e n even the sound of the rain repeats:
The lease is wp, the time is near.
Pull the curtains to the sill,
Darken the rooms, cut all the wires.
Crush the embers as they fall
From the dying fires:
Things are not going well.