The Marionette of Joy

     Raise up Thy dappled harlequin of Joy,
     Thou One sweet Actress, for the Play's bell rings,
     Breathless is waiting Thy puppet, Thy toy,
     For the lightning-pull of the magic strings.

     Quite numb I am, just dead, a graceful rag,
     As all true harlequins have always been.
     My long and will-less limbs helplessly sag,
     But in the mellow heart throbs Thy Force, my Queen.

     0, let these strings now be my nerves of steel,
     That I may vault to the caprice of Thy song,
     In somersault-whirls Thy Power let me feel
     To fight in this stuffed body fierce and strong.
                                                                           June 1964 72