Madam would speak with me. So, now it comes: <br />The Deluge or else Fire! She's well, she thanks <br />My husbandship. Our chain on silence clanks. <br />Time leers between, above his twiddling thumbs. <br />Am I quite well? Most excellent in health! <br />The journals, too, I diligently peruse. <br />Vesuvius is expected to give news: <br />Niagara is no noisier. By stealth <br />Our eyes dart scrutinizing snakes. She's glad <br />I'm happy, says her quivering under-lip. <br />"And are not you?" "How can I be?" "Take ship! <br />For happiness is somewhere to be had." <br />"Nowhere for me!" Her voice is barely heard. <br />I am not melted, and make no pretence. <br />With commonplace I freeze her, tongue and sense. <br />Niagara or Vesuvius is deferred.<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-xxxiv-madam-would-speak-with-me/
