Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920.
Ralph Hodgson18711962Eve
E
Deep in the bells and grass,
Wading in bells and grass
Up to her knees.
Picking a dish of sweet
Berries and plums to eat,
Down in the bells and grass
Under the trees.
Corner the cobra lay,
Curled round a bough of the
Cinnamon tall.…
Now to get even and
Humble proud heaven and
Now was the moment or
Never at all.
Light as a flower fell,
“Eva!” he whispered the
Wondering maid,
Soft as a bubble sung
Out of a linnet’s lung,
Soft and most silverly
“Eva!” he said.
Eve, with her body white,
Supple and smooth to her
Slim finger tips;
Wondering, listening,
Listening, wondering,
Eve with a berry
Half-way to her lips.
Seen through the make-believe!
Had she but known the
Pretender he was!
Out of the boughs he came,
Whispering still her name,
Tumbling in twenty rings
Into the grass.
In the world anywhere,
Eve in the bells and grass
Kneeling, and he
Telling his story low.…
Singing birds saw them go
Down the dark path to
The Blasphemous Tree.
Titmouse and Jenny Wren
Saw him successful and
Taking his leave!
How the birds rated him,
How they all hated him!
How they all pitied
Poor motherless Eve!
Outside in the lane,
Eve, with no dish of sweet
Berries and plums to eat,
Haunting the gate of the
Orchard in vain.…
Picture the lewd delight
Under the hill to-night—
“Eva!” the toast goes round,
“Eva!” again.