THE stars like quaking-grass grow in each gap Of air (ruined castle wall) . . . Pere Amelot in his white nightcap Peered through . . . saw nothing at all. Like statues green from the verdigris Of the moon, two shadows join His shade, that under that castle wall sees The moon like a Roman coin. Out of his nightcap he drew three pence . . . Marie and Angelique pass The knife through Pere Amelot's back -- in the dense Bushes fly . . . he nods on the grass. The man with the lanthorn, a moment after, Picks up the moon that fell Like an Augustan coin when laughter Shook the hen-cackling grass of Hell; And the Public Writer inscribing his runes Beneath that castle wall, sees Three Roman coins as blackened as prunes -- And Pere Amelot slain for these! The stars like quaking-grass grow in each gap Of air -- ruined castle wall . . . Pere Amelot nods in his white nightcap . . . He knows there is nothing at all! |