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.