The Messed Damozel Poem by Charles Hanson Towne

At the Cubist Exhibition

The Messed Damozel leaned out
From the gold cube of Heav'n;
There were three cubes within her hands,
And the cubes in her hair were seven;
I looked, and looked, and looked, and looked--
I could not see her, even.

Her robe, a cube from clasp top hem,
Was moderately clear;
Methought I saw two cubic eyes,
When I had looked a year;
But when I turned to tell the world,
Those eyes did disappear!

It was the rampart of some house
That she was standing on;
That much, at least, was plain to me
As her I gazed upon;
But even as I gazed, alas!
The rampart, too, was gone!

(I saw her smile!) Oh, no, I didn't,
Though long my eyes did stare;
The cubes closed down and shut her out;
I wept in deep despair;
But this I know, and know full well--

She simply wasn't there!