244
PARTISAN REVJEW
the phrases turn to weeping at the door.
Though few are certain, these few live beside
the bridge. The refuse of the days still flows
beneath. The stench of all without a will
stagnates within the ice-capped pools. Spring
will tell, and the melting will be more than tears.
And more than ever passed before, will flow
through the canal. I merely wait and watch
till wishes are the acts of those who wish
upon themselves. The bridge remains. Many
will cross. The black stream will be there.
W~nthrop
Palmer
THE COUNTRIES OF WOMAN
What wrong is right when two have been twain!
In any song I find my love too much
Ready to burn the world-to jump free
The live wire mortal may not touch-
Death only dares to choose eternity.
A woman is the country of a man.
Being woman Eve turned to stone;
Being in cloak and suit, a boy,
The man, vows to live in order for life
Till hot blood his fabric skin destroy.
What is the creature stirring in his wife?
A woman is the country of a man.
With jug and plate the Abyssinian
In smoke and brass has middle age her slave–
A curved, black brow sweeps up the stare
Heavy and heated, hunched in her cave
Over her wrist, her elbow, under her hair.
A woman is the country of a man.
To live single is to have lived in vain.
To entertain the retinue and power
