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Kenneth Slessor - Polarities
Work rating: Low

SOMETIMES she is like sherry, like the sun through a vessel of glass, 
 Like light through an oriel window in a room of yellow wood; 
 Sometimes she is the colour of lions, of sand in the fire of noon, 
 Sometimes as bruised with shadows as the afternoon. 
 Sometimes she moves like rivers, sometimes like trees; 
 Or tranced and fixed like South Pole silences; 
 Sometimes she is beauty, sometimes fury, sometimes neither, 
 Sometimes nothing, drained of meaning, null as water. 
 Sometimes, when she makes pea-soup or plays me Schumann, 
 I love her one way; sometimes I love her another 
 More disturbing way when she opens her mouth in the dark; 
 Sometimes I like her with camellias, sometimes with a parsley-stalk, 
 Sometimes I like her swimming in a mirror on the wall; 
 Sometimes I don`t like her at all.
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