Konx Om Pax

THE STONE OF THE PHILOSOPHERS 81 Which of us likes his house the best? You who find filth on every floor? I, in the privy who attest A something worthy to adore? The end is—you are always sick; You always quarrel with your meat. My raptures follow fast and thick: I even tend to overeat. You would not daily with Doreen Because her fairness was to fade, Because you know the things unclean That go to make a mortal maid. I, if her rotten corpse were mine, Would take it as my natural food, Denying all but the Divine Alike in evil and in good. Aspasia may skin me close, And Lais load me with disease. Poor pleasures, bitter bargains, those? I still despise Diogenes. Why must the prig be still the judge? The Deadly-Livelies audit life? Ask of the drone about the drudge! Compute the mistress by the wife! Why? Because Jesus helps them to! Converted William snubs the King. No doubt the soapy godly crew Can turn their hands to anything! G