LES MISÉRABLES Lips burning lips in passionate caress, Clasped, slightly swaying, pallid as the moon, Two wretches, cleaving to each other, press Their aching bodies into semi-swoon. All the night through, till the stars droop and fail, The girdle of their arms is not undone, And when the night is finished, flaccid, pale, Two ghosts rise up, and gaze upon the sun, And turning from each other go their ways Drunken with horror, reeling with sick shame, Calling a curse on God for all their days Of ravening, all their fierce nights of flame. And lo! before the coming of the night They meet and greet again in shame's despite. September, 1919.
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