Old Spookses’ Pass, Malcolm’s Katie and Other Poems

by Isabella Valancy Crawford




Fountain, cans’t thou sing the song
    My Juan sang to me
The moonlit orange groves among?
    Then list the words from me,
And mark thee, by the morning’s light,
    Or by the moon’s soft beam,
Or when my eyes with smiles are bright,
    Or when I wake or dream.
O, Fountain, thou must sing the song
    My Juan sang to me;
Yet stay—the only words I know
    Are “Inez, Love and Thee!”

Fountain, on my light guitar
    I’ll play the strain to thee,
And while I watch yon laughing star,
    The words will come to me.
And mark thee, when my heart is sad,
    And full of sweet regrets,
Or when it throbs to laughter glad,
    Like feet to castanets.
O, Fountain, thou must sing the song
    My Juan sang to me;
Yet stay—the only words I know
    Are “Inez, Love, and Thee!” [Page 153]

Fountain, clap thy twinkling hands
    Beneath yon floating moon,
And twinkle to the starry bands
    That dance upon the gloom,
For I am glad, for who could crave,
    The joyous night to fill,
A richer treasure than I have
    In Juan’s seguedille?
So, Fountain, mark, no other song
    Dare ever sing to me,
Tho’ only four short words I know,
    Just, “Inez, Love and Thee!”


Morello strikes on his guitar,
When over the olives the star
Of eve, like a rose touch’d with gold,
Doth slowly its sweet rays unfold.
Perchance ’tis in some city square,
And the people all follow us there.
Don, donna, slim chulo, padrone,
The very dog runs with his bone;
One half of the square is in the shade,
On the other the red sunset fades;
The fount, as it flings up its jets,
Responds to my brisk castranets;
I wear a red rose at my ear;
And many a whisper I hear:
“If she were a lady, behold,
None other should share my red gold!” [Page 154]
“St. Anthony save us, what eyes!
How gem-like her little foot flies!”
“These dancers should all be forbid
To dance in the streets of Madrid.”
“If I were a monarch I’d own
No other to sit on my throne!”
Two scarlet streamers tie my hair;
They burn like red stars on the air;
My dark eyes flash, my clear cheek burns,
My kirtle eddies in swift turns,
My golden necklet tinkles sweet;
Yes, yes, I love the crowded street! [Page 155]