Her Empty Eyes

But she forgave mé. I received a card

To a dinner, then a tea: "It is hard,"

She wrote, "to unbend toward you, but after all

I once was a pagan; so won't you come and call?"

What could I do? I found her surrounded

By wits and rakes who thoughtfully compounded

Exposés of their mythical mistresses

For her benefit. To these she replied, " Jesus's

Teachings do not countenance such affairs;

But (among friends) nothing quite compares

With a dusky night and silk curtains and lace

When love is high-it is like a dreamy chase

Over fascinating hills and valleys. I think

Those things are subtly pure; they link

The mind and heart and soul by possession.

And of course, my friends, there's always confession."

She talked like this until they went, then to me

She turned her empty eyes, saying accusingly:

"I suppose you think I am two-faced. Well,

I believe in heaven and I believe in hell;

But the blood of Christ and tea, you know,

Are different things. Which goes to show

That surfaces may be decidedly deceiving.

I once adhered to one course, believing

That God was terrible. But that is not so-

He often smiles."" I sighed and turned to go,

Because I knew she loved to lecture.

One more remark: "My friend, inspect your

Conscience and you'll see that God and Pan

Often shake hands." She sharply closed her fan.