You would draw your mirror towards you, you I was a lover, I kissed the woman I loved,!

and heaps and heaps and horrible reeking heaps Glistening white on the shoulders,

They are the flowers of ice-vivid mortification, From out the cloud of sleep, looks round about THESE poems should not be considered separately, as so many single pieces. They are intended as an essential story, or history, or confession, unfolding one from the other in organic development, the whole revealing the intrinsic experience of a man during the crisis of manhood, when he marries and comes into himself. The period covered is, roughly, the sixth lustre of a man's life