Modern Love: XXXIV

Madam would speak with me. So, now it comes:

The Deluge or else Fire! She's well, she thanks

My husbandship. Our chain on silence clanks.

Time leers between, above his twiddling thumbs.

Am I quite well? Most excellent in health!

The journals, too, I diligently peruse.

Vesuvius is expected to give news:

Niagara is no noisier. By stealth

Our eyes dart scrutinizing snakes. She's glad

I'm happy, says her quivering under-lip.

"And are not you?" "How can I be?" "Take ship!

For happiness is somewhere to be had."

"Nowhere for me!" Her voice is barely heard.

I am not melted, and make no pretence.

With commonplace I freeze her, tongue and sense.

Niagara or Vesuvius is deferred.