Alice: An Adultery

THE FORTY-EIGHTH DAY “ Let us return “ And strain what other means is left to us In our dear peril.” Timon of Athens. Our love takes on a tinge of melancholy, The six months glory of life past on earth About to yield to Hades’ bridal birth, The world’s sad sympathy with Persephone. Yet I myself, while tuning to her key My sighs of sorrow, mused in secret mirth : “ I am convinced at last of money’s worth, For lack of which she cannot cross the sea.” I told her, like a fool, a day too soon. She went and told her story to the priest ; She wept, and borrowed money of the beast. She told me she would go : June fell from June. I, left in limbo ; she, to front the elate Cockoldy lawyer in the L . . . S . . . S . . . 90