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One of his ecstasies
Surprised the hale grotesque
While he passed through the dusk
Amongst the talkative
With whom he likes to live --
Who are like him, in bone,
Muscle, and busy veins
That feed their rootlets down
Into alert membranes
All eagerness to vary.
He fi nds them necessary.
Bent on the human noise
How excellent in poise
The grave Silenus head
Looks at the trampled ground,
For a time quieted.
And once more to have found
In the conception there
The one man in still air --
Once more, for the sake of thought,
Himself in passion, caught.
-- And soon he will come in,
And with the wine and talk
The questioning begin;
Bewildered friends will balk,
Swerve, and perhaps agree,
Toward daybreak, sleepily;
With one exhausted friend
He'll go, time still to spend --
With them to his last day!
Near dusk he will have sent
The wailing women away,
And checked the friends' lament