immortal dead, the rulers of the spirit in this
land....

For in this kingdom of the dead they who are living
cling with fevered hands to the torn fringes of the
mighty past. And if they fail a little, compromise....

The dead I think will understand.

Soochow


My Servant

The feet of my servant thump on the floor. _Thump,_
they go, and _thump_--dully, deformedly.
My servant has shown me her feet.
The instep has been broken upward into a bony cushion.
The big toe is pointed as an awl. The small
toes are folded under the cushioned instep. Only
the heel is untouched.
The thing is white and bloodless with the pallor of
dead flesh.

But my servant is quite contented.
She smiles toothlessly and shows me how small are her
feet, her "golden lilies."

_Thump_, they go, and _thump!_