| Close
your eyes, my love, let me make you blind; |
|
| They have taught
you to see |
|
| Only a mean arithmetic on the face of things, |
|
| A cunning algebra in the faces of men, |
|
| And God like
geometry |
|
| Completing his circles, and working cleverly. |
|
| |
| I’ll kiss you over the eyes till I kiss you blind; |
|
| If I can—if
any one could. |
|
| Then perhaps in the dark you’ll have got what you
want to find. |
|
| You’ve discovered so many bits, with your clever
eyes, |
|
| And I’m a
kaleidoscope |
|
| That you shake and shake, and yet it won’t come to
your mind. |
|
| Now stop carping at me.—But God, how I hate you! |
|
| Do you fear I shall
swindle you? |
|
| Do you think if you take me as I am, that that will
abate you |
|
| Somehow?—so sad, so intrinsic, so spiritual, yet
so cautious, you |
|
| Must have me all in your will and your consciousness— |
|
| I hate you. |
