Spins the world. Change but of a humdrum kind. What we vaguely had in mind Was some new sensation or Thrill we never felt before. Vain desire! Vain desire! Nothing’s added to the stock: Same old shiver, same old shock. Round about the sun we’ll go In the same old status quo. Awful bore! Awful bore! [Pg 68] [Pg 68] A BALLADE OF IRRESOLUTION Isolde, in the story old, When Ireland’s coast the vessel nears, And Death were fairer to behold, To Tristan gives “the cup that clears.” Straight to their fate the helmsman steers: Unknowing, each the potion sips.... Comes echoing through the ghostly years “Give me the philtre of thy lips!” “Give me the philtre of thy lips!” Ah, that like Tristan I were bold! My soul into the future peers, And passion flags, and heart grows cold, And sicklied resolution veers. I see the Sister of the Shears Who sits fore’er and snips, and snips.... Still falls upon my inward ears, “Give me the philtre of thy lips!” “Give me the philtre of thy lips!” Hero of lovers, largely soul’d! Imagination thee enspheres With song-enchanted wood and wold And casements fronting magic meres. Tristan, thy large example cheers The faint of heart; thy story grips!— My soul again that echo hears, “Give me the philtre of thy lips!” “Give me the philtre of thy lips!” [Pg 69] L’Envoi [Pg 69] L’Envoi Sweet sorceress, resolve my fears! He stakes all who Elysium clips. What tho’ the fruit be tares and tears!— Give me the philtre of thy lips!
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