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Modern Love: XXXIV

by
 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.

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