  Use no more speech now; Let the silence spread gold hair above us Fold on delicate fold; You had the ivory of my life to carve. Use no more speech. .... And Picus of Mirandola is dead; And all the gods they dreamed and fabled of, Hermes, and Thoth, and Christ, are rotten now, Rotten and dank. .... And through it all I see your pale Greek face; Tenderness makes me as eager as a little child To love you You morsel left half cold on Caesar’s plate. Richard Aldington
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