Alice: An Adultery

THE FORTY-SEVENTH DAY “ Thou ever young, fresh, lov’d, and delicate wooer.” Timon of Athens. The little money that we had to spend Was gone long since : the little more I stole Followed : I pledged than all things but my soul (On which the usurers refused to lend) To raise our utmost, till a ship should send Much plenty from the Sunset : to control And stop her yet a little while, the whole I meant to waste before the week should end. Thus we went Northward to the capital, Desolate huts and ways funereal, An hateful town ; earthquake and heat and rain Made the place wretched, did not love enchain There even as here : what mattered aught at all While love was hovering and our lips were fain ? 89