XIV
AccerT me asl am! I give
All you can take. If you dislike
Some fragments of the life I live,
They are not yours: I scorn to strike
One sword-swift pang against your peace.
See! I'ma mountaineer. Release
That spirit from your bonds: or come
With me upon the mountains, cease
This dull round, this addition sum
Of follies we call France: indeed
Cipher! And if at times I need
The golden dawn upon the Alps,
The gorges of Himalayan rock,
The grey and ancient hills, the scalps
Of hoary hills, the rattling shock
Of avalanche adown the hills—
Why, what but you, your image, fills
My heart in these? I want you there.
For whom but you do I ply pen,
Talk with unmentionable men
E 33