XLII 
PROEM. 
 
For as I love with spirit and with sense 
I nauseate at this crawling crapulence, 
Our whole state, summed in one supreme enigma, 
Solved (in a second) by a simple Σ. 
Monstrous conjunctions with black man and brute 
Level our ladies with the prostitute : 
Our spinsters chaste in criminal abortion, 
And matrons with the pox for marriage portion ; 
Husbands who pimp all day for their young wives, 
Athletes from Oxford, pathic all their lives, 
Who sport the “ so ” coat, the sotadic necktie, 
And lisp their filthy pun “ Mens conscia recti ” ! 
Priests who are celibates — outside the choir ! 
Maidens who rave in Lesbian desire ; 
The buck of sixty, cunning as a trapper, 
Stalking the pig-tailed, masturbating flapper ; 
The creeping Jesus — Caution !  we may shock it ! — 
With one hand through his torn-out breeches pocket ; 
Flagellates shrieking in our streets and schools, 
Our men all hogs, and all our women ghouls : — 
This is our England, pious dame and prude, 
Who calls me blasphemous, unchaste, and rude ! 
 
Come to sweet air, poor sirens of the stews !