Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/53

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PENREB'S TOMB
"Upon these stones Time broke his teeth," you said.We stood in Penreb's tomb, and stared uponThe hammered blocks that held the royal deadWhose pomp still stood, altho' his breath was gone.You said, "Slaves sweated for that narrow room."Their scattered bones are mixed with desert sand;But on the high walls, ruddy in the gloom,The files of the king's servitors yet stand.
We shall not rear to death such monumentsWith massive marble, nor with crimson chalk.Nor wrap our withered limbs in cerementsMore spicy than our rare ephemeral talk.So Time, who broke his teeth upon these stones,Gnaws at our hearts, careless of Penreb's bones.
The New RepublicBabette Deutsch


KNOWLEDGE
Now there is no confusion in our love—For you are thereWith the big brow, the cheek of tougher grain,The rougher greying hair;And I am here, with a woman's throat and hands.We are apart and different.
And there is something difference understandsThat peace knows nothing of.It is the pain in pleasure that we seekTo kill with kisses and reviveWith other kisses;For by our hurt we know we are alive.

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