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ttledore and Shuttlecock
The shuttlecock soars upward In a parabola of whitenessTurnsAnd
sinks to a perfect arc. Plat [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! the battledore strikes itAnd it rises again
Without hasteWinged and curvingTracing its white flight Against the
clipped hemlock-trees. Plat! Up againOrange and sparkling with sun
Rounding under the blue skyDroppingFading to grey-green In the
shadow of the coned hemlocks. "Ninety-one." "Ninety-two." "Ninety-
three." The arms of the little girls Come up -- and up -- PreciselyLike
mechanical toys. The battledores beat at nothingAnd toss the dazzle of
snow Off their parchment drums. "Ninety-four." Plat [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]! "Ninety-five."
Plat! Back and forth Goes the shuttlecockIcicle-whiteLeaping at the
sharp-edged cloudsOverturningFallingDownAnd downTinctured
with pink From the upthrusting shine Of Oriental poppies.
The little girls sway to the counting rhythm; Left footRight foot. Plat [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]!
Plat! Yellow heat twines round the handles of the battledoresThe
parchment cracks with dryness; But the shuttlecock Swings slowly into the
ice-blue skyHeaving up on the warm air Like a foam-bubble on a wave
With feathers slanted and sustaining. HigherUntil the earth turns beneath
it; Poiseyilai:
[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

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