To-day， this insect， and the world I breathe，

　　Now that my symbols have outelbowed space，

　　Time at the city spectacles， and half

　　The dear， daft time I take to nudge the sentence，

　　In trust and tale I have divided sense，

　　Slapped down the guillotine， the blood-red double

　　Of head and tail made witnesses to this

　　Murder of Eden and green genesis.

　　The insect certain is the plague of fables².

　　This story's monster has a serpent caul，

　　Blind in the coil scrams round the blazing outline，

　　Measures his own length on the garden wall

　　And breaks his shell in the last shocked beginning；

　　A crocodile before the chrysalis，

　　Before the fall from love the flying heartbone，

　　Winged like a sabbath ass³ this children's piece

　　Uncredited blows Jericho on Eden.

　　The insect fable¹ is the certain promise.

　　Death： death of Hamlet and the nightmare madmen，

　　An air-drawn windmill on a wooden horse，

　　John's beast， Job's patience， and the fibs of vision，

　　Greek in the Irish sea the ageless voice：

　　'Adam I love， my madmen's love is endless，

　　No tell-tale lover has an end more certain，

　　All legends' sweethearts on a tree of stories，

　　My cross of tales behind the fabulous⁴ curtain.'