Mr. Apollinax
Ω τnς καivóτητoς ‘Hρκλεiζ, τς παραδoξoλoγíας. εvµnχανoς aνθρωπoς.
LUCIAN.1
 

When Mr. Apollinax2 visited the United States

His laughter tinkled among the teacups.

I thought of Fragilion, that shy figure among the

birch-trees,

And of Priapus3 in the shrubbery

Gaping at the lady in the swing.

In the palace of Mrs. Phlaccus, at Professor

Channing-Cheetah’s

He laughed like an irresponsible foetus.

His laughter was submarine and profound

Like the old man of the sea’s

Hidden under coral islands

Where worried bodies of drowned men drift down

in the green silence,

Dropping from fingers of surf.

I looked for the head of Mr. Apollinax rolling

under a chair.

Or grinning over a screen

With seaweed in its hair.

I heard the beat of centaur’s hoofs over the hard

turf

As his dry and passionate talk devoured the

afternoon.

‘He is a charming man’—‘But after all what did he

mean?’—

‘His pointed ears.... He must be unbalanced.’—

‘There was something he said that I might have

challenged.’

Of dowager Mrs. Phlaccus, and Professor and

Mrs. Cheetah

I remember a slice of lemon, and a bitten

macaroon.