Cupidon refers to Cupid, which represents love and curiosity. Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night. Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,Īnd they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot. What you get married for if you don't want children? Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said, The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.

(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said. I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face, You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique. If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said,īut if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling. Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look. He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,Īnd if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said. He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.Īnd no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert, You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you

Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart. I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door. 'I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street 'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?' 'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember 'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?' 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? Under the firelight, under the brush, her hairĬlawed into words, then would be savagely still.

Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed. So rudely forced yet there the nightingaleįilled all the desert with inviolable voiceĪnd still she cried, and still the world pursues, The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam.Īs though a window gave upon the sylvan scene Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.īurned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, In fattening the prolonged candle -flames, That freshened from the window, these ascended Unguent, powdered, or liquid-troubled, confusedĪnd drowned the sense in odours stirred by the air Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes, The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,įrom satin cases poured in rich profusion Held up by standards wrought with fruited vinesĭoubled the flames of seven branched candelabra The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,

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