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Show The Poet's Love By Carolyn Wells H, me," said the Poet, "I h would that I could realize these fair visions I sing. The gloriou. beauteous maidens I describe In my lyric numbers have no counterpart on this mundane planet " "Say not so, O Poet." droned a Genie, who appeared, conveniently enough from nowhere. "I will send thep, as thou wlshest. a mortal, who shall be in very truth, the realization realiza-tion of all the rare and radiant maidens maid-ens whom thou hast sung in thy liltlngs. and whom the angels would br Jutlf1ed In naming 'Lenore.'" "Where is she?" Rasped the Poet, "where is my glorious Goddess, with a voice like a chime of tinkling silver sil-ver bells''" "Here am I come ." and a maiden apnearpd Her voice was exactly like a chime of silver bells, nnd the metallic ring sounded queer enough. She chimed the phrase three times (because it was quarter to five) with the varying notes of a clock's chime, and it nearly drove tho Poet frantic. "I am. indeed, thy Goddess." went on the clinking metal tones, "doat thou not recognize tho rose leaf hands, with which thou has ever endowed me? and the alabaster ala-baster arms?" Well if you can Imaelne the shock of the poor Poet! che held out lone arms of cold, hard carved alabaster, and at the end of each was a soft crumpled rose-petal Instead of a hand! "Why dost thou r.hudder,,c she said disappointedly; "'tis but the realiza-tlon realiza-tlon of thine own poesy. Stay, see my feet." She thrust her tiny feet In and out from beneath her petticoat frills, and if you please they were like mice' Pointed noses and black beadjr eves gave the Poet a positive turn, but what could he do7 Had he not himself vowed tbe similitude'' In despair he turned his eyes to her face. She fixed him with a glance of her starrv eyes. Starry, indeed. They were of the five pointed point-ed shape, and gleab;"d with a yellow light. Covly she dropped over them a jetty fringe the sort mother used to wear on her basque. -"You said." she chimed, "by those lids whoso C tty fringes kiss thy soft cheek's blooming tinge" Ay, he had said lt; and now she laid her blooming cheek against his own. He had said her cheeks were peach-like and they were. The frizzy skin of the peach felt like velvet rubbed the wrong way a thing he never could stand! Her swan-like neck was covered with tiny soft white feathers; and when she smiled, he saw two strings of pearl beads, like a double neck-lcce. neck-lcce. Her hair, of spun gold, scratched his face fearfully, but the climax came when she pressed her lips to his Por. her lips, as he had avowed a hundred times, were of coral! That bauchy sort of coral, you understand, that they make babies' necklaces of. With a mad shriek, the Poet flung her from him. and devoted the rest ol his life to the writing of Realistic Prose. (O 1010. International Feature SerTlce, Inc. Great Britain RU:btiBrr |