men, women and ghosts(男人、女人和鬼魂)-第12章
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sharp…edged clouds； Overturning； Falling； Down； And down； Tinctured
with pink From the upthrusting shine Of Oriental poppies。
The little girls sway to the counting rhythm； Left foot； Right foot。 Plat！
Plat！ Yellow heat twines round the handles of the battledores； The
parchment cracks with dryness； But the shuttlecock Swings slowly into the
ice…blue sky； Heaving up on the warm air Like a foam…bubble on a wave；
With feathers slanted and sustaining。 Higher； Until the earth turns beneath
it； Poised and swinging； With all the garden flowing beneath it； Scarlet；
and blue； and purple； and white Blurred colour reflections in rippled
water Changing streaming For the moment that Stella takes to lift
her arm。 Then the shuttlecock relinquishes； Bows； Descends； And the
sharp blue spears of the air Thrust it to earth。
Again it mounts； Stepping up on the rising scents of flowers； Buoyed
up and under by the shining heat。 Above the foxgloves； Above the guelder…
roses； Above the greenhouse glitter； Till the shafts of cooler air Meet it；
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Deflect it； Reject it； Then down； Down； Past the greenhouse； Past the
guelder…rose bush； Past the foxgloves。
〃Ninety…nine；〃 Stella's battledore springs to the impact。 Plunk！ Like
the snap of a taut string。 〃Oh！ Minna！〃 The shuttlecock drops zigzagedly；
Out of orbit； Hits the path； And rolls over quite still。 Dead white feathers；
With a weight at the end。
III
Garden Games
The tall clock is striking twelve； And the little girls stop in the hall to
watch it； And the big ships rocking in a half…circle Above the dial。 Twelve
o'clock！ Down the side steps Go the little girls； Under their big round
straw hats。 Minna's has a pink ribbon； Stella's a blue； That is the way they
know which is which。 Twelve o'clock！ An hour yet before dinner。 Mother
is busy in the still…room； And Hannah is making gingerbread。
Slowly； with lagging steps； They follow the garden…path； Crushing a
leaf of box for its acrid smell； Discussing what they shall do； And doing
nothing。
〃Stella； see that grasshopper Climbing up the bank！ What a jump！
Almost as long as my arm。〃 Run； children； run。 For the grasshopper is
leaping away； In half…circle curves； Shuttlecock curves； Over the grasses。
Hand in hand； the little girls call to him： 〃Grandfather； grandfather
gray； Give me molasses； or I'll throw you away。〃
The grasshopper leaps into the sunlight； Golden…green； And is gone。
〃Let's catch a bee。〃 Round whirl the little girls； And up the garden。
Two heads are thrust among the Canterbury bells； Listening； And fingers
clasp and unclasp behind backs In a strain of silence。
White bells； Blue bells； Hollow and reflexed。 Deep tunnels of blue and
white dimness； Cool wine…tunnels for bees。 There is a floundering and
buzzing over Minna's head。
〃Bend it down； Stella。 Quick！ Quick！〃 The wide mouth of a
blossom Is pressed together in Minna's fingers。 The stem flies up； jiggling
its flower…bells； And Minna holds the dark blue cup in her hand； With the
bee Imprisoned in it。 Whirr！ Buzz！ Bump！ Bump！ Whiz！ Bang！ BANG！！
The blue flower tears across like paper； And a gold…black bee darts away
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Men； Women and Ghosts
in the sunshine。
〃If we could fly； we could catch him。〃 The sunshine is hot on Stella's
upturned face； As she stares after the bee。 〃We'll follow him in a dove
chariot。 Come on； Stella。〃 Run； children； Along the red gravel paths； For a
bee is hard to catch； Even with a chariot of doves。
Tall； still； and cowled； Stand the monk's…hoods； Taller than the heads
of the little girls。 A blossom for Minna。 A blossom for Stella。 Off comes
the cowl； And there is a purple…painted chariot； Off comes the forward
petal； And there are two little green doves； With green traces tying them to
the chariot。 〃Now we will get in； and fly right up to the clouds。 Fly；
Doves； up in the sky； With Minna and me； After the bee。〃
Up one path； Down another； Run the little girls； Holding their dove
chariots in front of them； But the bee is hidden in the trumpet of a
honeysuckle； With his wings folded along his back。
The dove chariots are thrown away； And the little girls wander slowly
through the garden； Sucking the salvia tips； And squeezing the
snapdragons To make them gape。 〃I'm so hot； Let's pick a pansy And see
the little man in his bath； And play we're he。〃 A royal bath…tub； Hung with
purple stuffs and yellow。 The great purple…yellow wings Rise up behind
the little red and green man； The purple…yellow wings fan him； He dabbles
his feet in cool green。 Off with the green sheath； And there are two spindly
legs。 〃Heigho！〃 sighs Minna。 〃Heigho！〃 sighs Stella。 There is not a flutter
of wind； And the sun is directly overhead。
Along the edge of the garden Walk the little girls。 Their hats； round
and yellow like cheeses； Are dangling by the ribbons。 The grass is a tumult
of buttercups and daisies； Buttercups and daisies streaming away Up the
hill。 The garden is purple； and pink； and orange； and scarlet； The garden is
hot with colours。 But the meadow is only yellow； and white； and green；
Cool； and long； and quiet。 The little girls pick buttercups And hold them
under each other's chins。 〃You're as gold as Grandfather's snuff…box。
You're going to be very rich； Minna。〃 〃Oh…o…o！ Then I'll ask my husband
to give me a pair of garnet earrings Just like Aunt Nancy's。 I wonder if he
will。 I know。 We'll tell fortunes。 That's what we'll do。〃 Plump down in
the meadow grass； Stella and Minna； With their round yellow hats； Like
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cheeses； Beside them。 Drop； Drop； Daisy petals。 〃One I love； Two
I love； Three I love I say 。 。 。〃 The ground is peppered with daisy
petals； And the little girls nibble the golden centres； And play it is cake。
A bell rings。 Dinner…time； And after dinner there are lessons。
1777
I
The Trumpet…Vine Arbour
The throats of the little red trumpet…flowers are wide open； And the
clangour of brass beats against the hot sunlight。 They bray and blare at the
burning sky。 Red！ Red！ Coarse notes of red； Trumpeted at the blue sky。
In long streaks of sound； molten metal； The vine declares itself。 Clang！
from its red and yellow trumpets。 Clang！ from its long； nasal trumpets；
Splitting the sunlight into ribbons； tattered and shot with noise。
I sit in the cool arbour； in a green…and…gold twilight。 It is very still； for
I cannot hear the trumpets； I only know that they are red and open； And
that the sun above the arbour shakes with heat。 My quill is newly mended；
And makes fine…drawn lines with its point。 Down the long； white paper it
makes little lines； Just lines up down criss…cross。 My heart is
strained out at the pin…point of my quill； It is thin and writhing like the
marks of the pen。 My hand marches to a squeaky tune； It marches down
the paper to a squealing of fifes。 My pen and the trumpet…flowers； And
Washington's armies away over the smoke…tree to the Southwest。 〃Yankee
Doodle；〃 my Darling！ It is you against the British； Marching in your
ragged shoes to batter down King George。 What have you got in your hat？
Not a feather； I wager。 Just a hay…straw； for it is the harvest you are
fighting for。 Hay in your hat； and the whites of their eyes for a target！ Like
Bunker Hill； two years ago； when I watched all day from the house…top
Through Father's spy…glass。 The red city； and the blue； bright water； And
puffs of smoke which you made。 Twenty miles away； Round by
Cambridge； or over the Neck； But the smoke was white white！ To…day
the trumpet…flowers are red red And I cannot see you fighting； But old
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Mr。 Dimond has fled to Canada； And Myra sings 〃Yankee Doodle〃 at her
milking。 The red throats of the trumpets bray and clang in the sunshine；
And the smoke…tree puffs dun blossoms into the blue air。
II
The City of Falling Leaves
Leaves fall； Brown leaves； Yellow leaves streaked with brown。 They
fall； Flutter； Fall again。 The brown leaves； And the streaked yellow leaves；
Loosen on their branches And drift slowly downwards。 One； One； two；
three； One； two； five。 All Venice is a falling of Autumn leaves Brown；
And yellow streaked with brown。
〃That sonnet； Abate； Beautiful； I am quite exhausted by it。 Your
phrases turn about my heart And stifle me to swooning。 Open the window；
I beg。 Lord！ What a strumming of fiddles and mandolins！ 'Tis really a
shame to stop indoors。 Call my maid； or I will make you lace me yourself。
Fie； how hot it is； not a breath of air！ See how straight the leaves are
falling。 Marianna； I will have the yellow satin caught up with silver fringe；
It peeps out delightfully from under a mantle。 Am I well painted to…day；
‘caro Abate mio'？ You will be proud of me at the ‘Ridotto'； hey？ Proud of
being ‘Cavalier Servente' to such a lady？〃 〃Can you doubt it； ‘Bellissima
Contessa'？ A pinch more rouge on the right cheek； And Venus herself
shines less 。 。 。〃 〃You bore me； Abate； I vow I must change you！ A letter；
Achmet？ Run and look out of the window； Abate。 I will read my letter in
peace。〃 The little
