I.  
I AM quite sane, quite quiet.  Sober thought 
Is as a woof to my mad dreams.  My brain 
Beats to the double stroke ; the double strain 
Warps its gray fibers, all the dream is wrought 
A spider-tapestry ; the old blood-stain 
Spreads through the air 
Some hot contagious growth to slay men unaware. 
 
II. 
I have discovered God !  His ghastly way ; 
Of burning ploughshares for my naked feet 
Lies open to me—shall I find it sweet 
To give up sunlight for that mystic day 
That beams its torture whose red banners beat 
Their radiant fire 
Into my shrivelled head, to wither Love’s desire ? 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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