Poems — Volume 2 by George Meredith
page 51 of 296 (17%)
page 51 of 296 (17%)
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Here is never secret cloaked.
Doubt you with the monster's fry All his orbit may exclude; Are you of the stiff, the dry, Cursing the not understood; Grasp you with the monster's claws; Govern with his truncheon-saws; Hate, the shadow of a grain; You are lost in Westermain: Earthward swoops a vulture sun, Nighted upon carrion: Straightway venom wine-cups shout Toasts to One whose eyes are out: Flowers along the reeling floor Drip henbane and hellebore: Beauty, of her tresses shorn, Shrieks as nature's maniac: Hideousness on hoof and horn Tumbles, yapping in her track: Haggard Wisdom, stately once, Leers fantastical and trips: Allegory drums the sconce, Impiousness nibblenips. Imp that dances, imp that flits, Imp o' the demon-growing girl, Maddest! whirl with imp o' the pits Round you, and with them you whirl Fast where pours the fountain-rout Out of Him whose eyes are out: Multitudes on multitudes, |
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