Feel your grasp tighten round my ribs until
You crush me in the ecstasies that kill.
Being away and breathing icy air
I am half lover, caring not to care;
Half-man again—a mere terrestrial ball
Thus breaking up a spiritual thrall—
Eh, my philosophers ?—half-man may yet deter-
mine
To get back manhood, shake the tree from bats:
To change the trope a shade—get rid of vermin
By using William Shakespeare’s ‘‘ Rough on Rats.”
VI.
Ah, love, dear love, sole queen of my affection,
Guess you not yet what wheel of thought is spun?
How out of dawn’s tumultuous dejection
And not from noon springs up the splendid sun?
Not till the house is swept and garnished well
Rise seven other devils out of hell.
VII.
This is the circle; as the manhood rises
And laughter and rude rime engage my pen;
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