IV

Time feels his tooth slip on husks wet from Truth's lip, which drops them and grins—

Shells where no throb stirs of life left in lobsters since joy thrilled their fins—

Hues of the prawn's tail or comb that makes dawn stale, so red for our sins!

V

Years blind and deaf use the soul's joys as refuse, heart's peace as manure,

Reared whence, next June's rose shall bloom where our moons rose last year, just as pure:

Moons' ends match roses' ends: men by beasts' noses' ends mete sin's stink's cure.

VI

Leaves love last year smelt now feel dead love's tears melt—flies caught in time's mesh!

Salt are the dews in which new time breeds new sin, brews blood and stews flesh;

Next year may see dead more germs than this weeded and reared them afresh.

VII

Old times left perish, there's new time to cherish; life just shifts its tune;

As, when the day dies, earth, half afraid, eyes the growth of the moon;

Love me and save me, take me or waive me; death takes one so soon!

[Pg 377]

II

BY THE CLIFF

I

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