[BNP/E3, 49A1 – 14]

Mankind hath many ways to spell

This theologic lie of Sin

Yet even given scene and †

Swimming towards a physical hell

On a river of gin, {…}

__________

There is a chocolate-box[1] upon my table

I know not how – upon whose lid I remark

A city greater old – a very Babel

Of grotesque houses {…}, {…} closely packed and dark.

__________

Thereby doth flow a black and mystic river

There is no name to this. All is unknown

I feel my soul with one reel and shiver

At the day loud {…}

February or March 1906

[14v]

_______

My mind doth seek so every small negation

Of the Finite and Known, that is unlocks

So far the portals of imagination

That I can weep ev’n at a chocolate-box.

_______

 
[1] chocolate/little\-box