Here you will find thePoemUndineof poet Kenneth Slessor
IN Undine's mirror the cutpurse found Five candlesticks by magic drowned, Like boughs of silver . . . and pale as death, Biting his beard, till the rogue's own breath Shook all their gourds of fire, he stopped, Eyed the gilt baskets, gaped half-round . . . . Then down to the floor his pistol dropped . . . . No sound in the dark rooms . . . the clank Of metal and beam died fast . . . and flank Pressed in strange fear to Undine's bed, The robber stared long, and bent his head To that soft wave . . . then hand on silk, Plumbed the warm valley where nightly sank Undine the water-maid, caved in milk. And over those pools, the rogue could smell Rich essences globed and stoppered well On Undine's table . . . and row by row, Jars of green china foamed stiff with snow, And crystal trays and bottles of stone Bowed like black slaves to that ivory shell, The body of Undine . . . but Undine was gone. Only below the candles' gleam, In one small casket of waxen cream With sidelong eyes the thief could follow That rosy trough, the printed hollow Of Undine's finger . . . then out to the street He sprawled and fled . . . but still on the beam His pistol waited for Undine's feet!
