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safe with you for ever？ You know all that？ How do you know all that； and
who has told you？ You know so much that I'm an atom frightened Because
you know so little。 And what is this？ You know the luxury there is in
haunting The blasted thoroughfares of disillusion If that's your name for
them with only ghosts For company？ You know that when a woman Is
blessed； or cursed； with a divine impatience （Another name of yours for a
bad temper） She must have one at hand on whom to wreak it （That's what
you mean； whatever the turn you give it）； Sure of a kindred sympathy； and
thereby Effect a mutual calm？ You know that wisdom； Given in vain to
make a food for those Who are without it； will be seen at last； And even at
last only by those who gave it； As one or more of the forgotten crumbs
That others leave？ You know that men's applause And women's envy savor
so much of dust That I go hungry； having at home no fare But the same
changeless bread that I may swallow Only with tears and prayers？ Who
told you that？ You know that if I read； and read alone； Too many books
that no men yet have written； I may go blind； or worse？ You know
yourself； Of all insistent and insidious creatures； To be the one to save me；
and to guard For me their flaming language？ And you know That if I give
much headway to the whim That's in me never to be quite sure that even
Through all those years of storm and fire I waited For this one rainy day； I
may go on； And on； and on alone； through smoke and ashes； To a cold end？
You know so dismal much As that about me？ 。 。 。 Well； I believe you do。
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Nimmo
Since you remember Nimmo； and arrive At such a false and florid and
far drawn Confusion of odd nonsense； I connive No longer； though I may
have led you on。
So much is told and heard and told again； So many with his legend are
engrossed； That I； more sorry now than I was then； May live on to be sorry
for his ghost。
You knew him； and you must have known his eyes； How deep they
were； and what a velvet light Came out of them when anger or surprise； Or
laughter； or Francesca； made them bright。
No； you will not forget such eyes； I think； And you say nothing of
them。 Very well。 I wonder if all history's worth a wink； Sometimes； or if
my tale be one to tell。
For they began to lose their velvet light； Their fire grew dead without
and small within； And many of you deplored the needless fight That
somewhere in the dark there must have been。
All fights are needless； when they're not our own； But Nimmo and
Francesca never fought。 Remember that； and when you are alone；
Remember me and think what I have thought。
Now； mind you； I say nothing of what was； Or never was； or could or
could not be： Bring not suspicion's candle to the glass That mirrors a
friend's face to memory。
Of what you see； see all； but see no more； For what I show you here
will not be there。 The devil has had his way with paint before； And he's an
artist； and you needn't stare。
There was a painter and he painted well： He'd paint you Daniel in the
lions' den； Beelzebub； Elaine； or William Tell。 I'm coming back to
Nimmo's eyes again。
The painter put the devil in those eyes； Unless the devil did； and there
he stayed； And then the lady fled from paradise； And there's your fact。 The
lady was afraid。
She must have been afraid； or may have been； Of evil in their velvet
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all the while； But sure as I'm a sinner with a skin； I'll trust the man as long
as he can smile。
I trust him who can smile and then may live In my heart's house；
where Nimmo is today。 God knows if I have more than men forgive To tell
him； but I played； and I shall pay。
I knew him then； and if I know him yet； I know in him； defeated and
estranged； The calm of men forbidden to forget The calm of women who
have loved and changed。
But there are ways that are beyond our ways； Or he would not be calm
and she be mute； As one by one their lost and empty days Pass without
even the warmth of a dispute。
God help us all when women think they see； God save us when they
do。 I'm fair； but though I know him only as he looks to me； I know him；
and I tell Francesca so。
And what of Nimmo？ Little would you ask Of him； could you but see
him as I can； At his bewildered and unfruitful task Of being what he was
born to be a man。
Better forget that I said anything Of what your tortured memory may
disclose； I know him； and your worst remembering Would count as much
as nothing； I suppose。
Meanwhile； I trust him； and I know his way Of trusting me； as always
in his youth。 I'm painting here a better man； you say； Than I； the painter；
and you say the truth。
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Peace on Earth
He took a frayed hat from his head； And 〃Peace on Earth〃 was what he
said。 〃A morsel out of what you're worth； And there we have it： Peace on
Earth。 Not much； although a little more Than what there was on earth
before。 I'm as you see； I'm Ichabod； But never mind the ways I've trod；
I'm sober now； so help me God。〃
I could not pass the fellow by。 〃Do you believe in God？〃 said I； 〃And
is there to be Peace on Earth？〃
〃Tonight we celebrate the birth；〃 He said； 〃of One who died for men；
The Son of God； we say。 What then？ Your God； or mine？ I'd make you
laugh Were I to tell you even half That I have learned of mine today
Where yours would hardly seem to stay。 Could He but follow in and out
Some anthropoids I know about； The God to whom you may have prayed
Might see a world He never made。〃
〃Your words are flowing full；〃 said I； 〃But yet they give me no reply；
Your fountain might as well be dry。〃
〃A wiser One than you； my friend； Would wait and hear me to the end；
And for His eyes a light would shine Through this unpleasant shell of
mine That in your fancy makes of me A Christmas curiosity。 All right； I
might be worse than that； And you might now be lying flat； I might have
done it from behind； And taken what there was to find。 Don't worry； for
I'm not that kind。 ‘Do I believe in God？' Is that The pri