Travelling Standing Still/B. C.

by Genevieve Taggard

B. C.

Mary, the queer girl, in the summer meadowMet someone,—was it man or shadow?

Now Mary walks and smiles, musingOn some dim memory,—choosingStones for her feet as she steps overThe shallow stream into ripe clover.

Mary is heavy. It is late summer.Mary waits for a late comerIn the high clover where no one pressesThe green flat. Mary guesses—A boy. A girl. A boy—pullingPetals from a hard disc—lullingAll disquiet into bond with himWho came on one angelic whimTo woo her into madness—MaryWho had been always quiet—veryShy, slight and wild, the queer maidenWho now walks weary, weary and heavy laden.

Heavy-laden girl with the anxious eyes,Nothing again will ever happen to you.Lie down in the clover, weary and heavy-laden, Lie down and wait, anxious, exquisite maiden,He does not come again, ever again, to woo.

Nothing again will ever happen to youWho are the source, the wealthy source of all being:From you henceforth, come miracles and sermons.

Mary, the queer girl, in the summer meadowMet someone. Was it man or shadow?

Now Mary walks and broods, takingSoft steps to a new aching.

The shy, the wild, was brought by a shadow, lowInto large quiet. Mary, queer girl, soStartled, most delicate one, MaryForget the shadow love, the airyPhantom, your sorrow.Phantom, your sorrow.Sunlight buzzes inAn arch over your head. Halos spinA ring of dancing atoms, pure and warm.And all invisible motes of being swarmAround young wilful Mary rapedBy a tall gay shadow, glory-shaped.

Greater than death has happened to Mary, moreTerrible things than birth. Heavy and lonely Mary has lost her smile, Mary greatWith load of man. There is onlyAgony to come, Mary, wait:Only agony and another loss of your being.

Out of you, behold, in animal sorrowThe groan announcing a new, an angelic shadowWho shall achieve the power and the glory.

Lie down in the clover, Mary, mother of phantoms.