HIS PHOENIX
 
 THERE is a queen in China, or maybe it's in Spain,
 And birthdays and holidays such praises can be heard
 Of her unblemished lineaments, a whiteness with no
 stain,
 That she might be that sprightly girl trodden by a
 bird;
 And there's a score of duchesses, surpassing woma-
 kind,
 Or who have found a painter to make them so for pay
 And smooth out stain and blemish with the elegance
 of his mind:
 I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
 day.
 The young men every night applaud their Gaby's
 laughing eye,
 And Ruth St.  Denis had more charm although she had
 poor luck;
 From nineteen hundred nine or ten, Pavlova's had the
 cry
 And there's a player in the States who gathers up her
 cloak
 And flings herself out of the room when Juliet would
 be bride
 With all a woman's passion, a child's imperious way,
 And there are – but no matter if there are scores beside:
 I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
 day.
 There's Margaret and Marjorie and Dorothy and Nan,
 A Daphne and a Mary who live in privacy;
 One's had her fill of lovers, another's had but one,
 Another boasts, "I pick and choose and have but two
 or three.'
 If head and limb have beauty and the instep's high and
 light
 They can spread out what sail they please for all I have
 to say,
 Be but the breakers of men's hearts or engines of
 delight:
 I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
 day.
 There'll be that crowd, that barbarous crowd, through
 all the centuries,
 And who can say but some young belle may walk and
 talk men wild
 Who is my beauty's equal, though that my heart denies,
 But not the exact likeness, the simplicity of a child,
 And that proud look as though she had gazed into the
 burning sun,
 And all the shapely body no tittle gone astray.
 I mourn for that most lonely thing; and yet God's will
 be done:
 I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their
 day.