XII
How the yahoos will rage and rave about
Our sloughs! "Appalling double suicide!
"'Orrible detiles". In the world without
We never yet consented to abide.
What should we care, within this cave of bliss,
This ocean of content, wherein we dive
And play like dolphins, for the horrid hiss
Of blow-flies? Nay, they never were alive!
O the sweet sleep that fastens on these brows!
O the enchauntment of this dreamy god,
My mystic sister, my mellific spouse,
Tht shepherds us with his hermetic rod
Into the flowery folds of love and sleep
Where we have strayed—O never yet so deep!
Our sloughs! "Appalling double suicide!
"'Orrible detiles". In the world without
We never yet consented to abide.
What should we care, within this cave of bliss,
This ocean of content, wherein we dive
And play like dolphins, for the horrid hiss
Of blow-flies? Nay, they never were alive!
O the sweet sleep that fastens on these brows!
O the enchauntment of this dreamy god,
My mystic sister, my mellific spouse,
Tht shepherds us with his hermetic rod
Into the flowery folds of love and sleep
Where we have strayed—O never yet so deep!
— 128 —
