Straight Shot

Iris there with humid bow, Arthur Rackham

For a time I lay like her, with my eyes closed.
Then she said, 'I'm Queen of the May.'
She was sitting up, turned to me, propped on one arm. She had woven a rough crown out of the oxeyes and wild pinks that grew in the grass around us. It sat lopsidedly on her uncombed hair; and she wore a smile of touching innocence. She did not know it, but it was at first for me an intensely literary moment. I could place it exactly: England's Helicon. I had forgotten that there are metaphors and metaphors, and that the greatest lyrics are very rarely anything but direct and unmetaphysical. -The Magus, John Fowles