Is it daytime ( guess ),
You that feed my soul
To excess
With that light in those eyes
And those curls drawn like a scroll
In that round grave guise?
No or yes?
Oh, the end, I'd say!
Such a foolish thing
( Pure girls’ play! )
As a mere mute heart,
Was it worth a kiss, a ring,
This? for two must part —
Not to-day.
Look, the whole sand crawls,
Hums, a heaving hive,
Scrapes and scrawls —
Such a buzz and burst!
Here just one thing's not alive,
One that was at first —
But life palls.
Yes, my heart, I know,
Just my heart's stone dead —
Yes, just so.
Sick with heat, those worms
Drop down scorched and overfed —
No more need of germs!
Let them go.
Yes, but you now, look,
You, the rouged stage female
With a crook,
Chalked Arcadian sham,
You that made my soul's sleep's dream ail —
Your soul fit to damn?
Shut the book.