POETRY.
INCUBUS.
ASLEEP, amazed, with lolling head, Arms in supplication spread, Body shudders dumb with fear . . There lifts the moon, but who am I Cloaked in shadow wavering by, Stooping, muttering at his ear? Bound is Body, foot and hand, Bound to lie at my command, Horror bolted to lie still While I sap what sense I will.
Through the darkness here come I, Softly fold about the prey, Body, moaning, must obey, Must not question who or why, Must accept me, come what may, Dumbly must obey.
When owls and cocks dispute the dawn Through the window I am drawn
Streaming out, a foggy breath.
. . . Body wakens with a sigh From the spell that was half Death Smiles for freedom, blinks an eye At the sun-commanded sky, " 0 morning scent and treetop song, Slow-rising smoke and nothing wrong."
ROBERT GRAVER.
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