The Latter Images
Poemata LV
"No woman can have Genius," he dryly said And closed the book quickly, whence eyes sped To the walls adorned, the images strange Impossible things, out of range Idols he thought of them, cast all wrong Objects of craven worship, vanity in song; "Who put them here, James?" he asked at last But the other lost in thought, not for that task-- Murmured softly thinking, thus considering The nature of a question, that sort of thing; "Now you see the problem," the man replied "They were never here before, I have not lied--" "You remember things that never were," The man with the book did quickly aver; "What is your word then, of another time--" But at that moment rung out a chime; "Sunset is coming," he spoke in fear "John, we must go, we must disappear!" Standing in the parlor the two looked down At that book's pages, which they had found All the pictures true, of things yet real Although they may never to him appeal "Why have they painted lies," John then asked But at last an image James raised and clasped: "Aspiration knows no earthly bound, "Impossible desires I have often found; "But perhaps a truth I may propose--" This image of John's mother, whose name was Rose "A Queen perhaps of people, can Genius gain--" "As if by gift or boon; by grace or by fame."
Author’s note: This poem is a story fragment. It can be appreciated for its felicities without the context of the story it belongs to. Although that story is concrete, the reader is free to imagine said story in whatever way he wishes.