Alfred Kreymborg, ed. Others for 1919. 1920.
Donald Evans
Portrait of Nancy Trevors
T
The men were three, and her husband was the third.
This in its way amplified his urbanity.
His suavities were of ivory.
He was more irreproachable than her virginal teacups.
The tea was amber, and the pungent lemon and the blanched sugar
Seized and caressed the eyes as each man took a proffered cup.
As four portraits on a wall come to life they stirred the silence with a babbling that gleamed.
The drawing-room was draped in a wistaria mist,
And the flutter of the phrases patted the cheek with an alien charm.
In but a short while she had become dominant,
And then she wrapped herself in the soothing nerves of excitement.
The three were lost in the pursuit of fragrance.
Their chairs were their kingdoms, and there were no other empires.
Archly then her voice dared:
“Will you have another cup, my beloved?”
She smiled over her adroit and ample confession, and it was enough.
She had done with the hour,
And she let the uneasy hush turn to a hodden-grey.