Elinor Wylie

The Tortoise in Eternity

Within my house of patterned horn 
I sleep in such a bed 
As men may keep before they’re born 
And after when they’re dead.

Sticks and stones may break their bones, 
And words may make them bleed; 
There is not one of them who owns 
An armour to his need.

Tougher than hide or lozenged bark, 
Snow-storm and thunder proof, 
And quick with sun, and thick with dark, 
Is this my darling roof.

Men’s troubled dreams of death and birth 
Puls mother-o’-pearl to black; 
I bear the rainbow bubble Earth 
Square on my scornful back.