I
POEMS
That passed. Persistent as memory,
wisteria waterfails still cascade
from New Orleans wrought balconies
toward kitchen yards' lush scenes
'
Of secrecy. Here, lilac evenings,
nostalgic as the South, prolonged
the sense of magic in the child,
and fear that this was not for him,
Or was for him only in the trance the
owners missed. The green luxuriance–
like a discreet cough- warned of
invaded privacy on terraces like
Peacock tails, flowering with eyes.
And to the child, the outrage of
I
beauty without kindness was like a
dream remembered only in the shock
Of accident. The nearby churchyard's
monuments confirm the general, the
educator, and the crank on haggard
slabs like shaggy tweeds, experuiive
In their age. Among these tombs, the
child was taught to learn and reject,
the rote of yesterday, like great poems
of the past that don't quite satisfy.
BYRON
v
AZAKAS
187
