DISROBED

(A ballad)

I
Unseen in evening, nor in the morn,

For she’s disrobed . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Asleep no doubt! – let her maids with frank words

Give her snub,

Or, ere arising without clothes,

She bathes in a tub.

II
Meanwhile with boxes stand three seamstresses,

And cobblers in droves,

Who see nothing, yet with their guesses

Size Her for robes.

III
Meanwhile children in the morning hour

Head somewhere for school;

A tiller takes plow, rivers flow – Warta,

Nida, and Vistula.

IV
Serene the view, serene the morning aroma,

At glowing dawn –

A pity, because when disrobed,

She can’t glimpse it all!

V
The world says thus: “Don your attire

From the threesome stack:

In Western-Eastern-motley style

Or – a mourning sack! . . .”

VI
Hearing this, I have a different view

On the Disrobed’s behest:

Unclad indeed, yet of what sheen and hue

Is Diana’s breast!

VII
Actaeon pales, struck by the light,

No hounds retreat at trumpet’s blare;

The Hyperborean forest shakes terrified,

Like a shack trembling and frail . . .

VIII
Whilst she’s unarmored – nor in Roman togs –

Yet grave and lovely fine,

Yet ever mindful, that for all time

This is – the punishment of Gods!

1881