Clouds Without Water

XII Then closer, closer. No! — then stop — think well What is this wonder we awake. Now think We are cast down to the abyss of hell Or tremble upon heaven’s dizzy brink — Which? All’s the same. Go on. No — what is this? Why dally? To the hilt! Ah mine, ah mine! Kiss me — I cannot kiss you — kiss me! Kiss! Oh! God! Oh God! Forgive me; I am thine. -— Horses and chariots that champ and clang! The roar of blazing cressets that environ The form that fuses in the perfect pang. A blast of air thorough the molten iron— One scream of light. Creating silence drops Into that silence when creation — stops. -— 112 — XIII So — é finita la commedia. ‘ And if the King lke not the comedy ” (Twine in your hair the fallen gardenia!) ‘“ Why then, belike he likes it not, pardie! " What will the “ King’’ — the British Public — say When they perceive their sorrow was my fun, Their Hecuba my mocking Brinvilliers? * I neither know nor care. What we have done We have done. Admit, though, you are rare and rich! This palely-wandering knight has found a flame Both merciless and beautiful, you witch! ' You play the game, and frankly, as a game! This is the hour of prattle — tell me true! I have never met another such. Have you? —113— .