The Plot Against The Giant

 First Girl
When this yokel comes maundering,
Whetting his hacker,
I shall run before him,
Diffusing the civilest odors
Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.

It will check him.


Second Girl
I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.

The threads
Will abash him.


Third Girl
Oh, la.
.
.
le pauvre!
I shall run before him,
With a curious puffing.

He will bend his ear then.

I shall whisper
Heavenly labials in a world of gutturals.

It will undo him.

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