To cards we have recourse When Time with cruelty runs, To courtly Bridge for stress of love, To Nap for noise of guns. On fairy earth we tread, No present problems vex Where man’s four humours fade to suits, With red and black for sex. Where phantom gains accrue By tricks instead of cash, Where pasteboard federacies of Powers In battles-royal clash. Then read the antique word That hangs above this page As type of mirth-abstracted joy, Calm terror, noiseless rage, A realm of ideal thought, Obscured by veils of Time, Cipher remote enough to stand As namesake for my rhyme, A game to play apart When all but crushed with care; Let right and left, your jealous hands, The lists of love prepare. |