“Take it or leave it,” he said suddenly in a loud and penetrating voice.
She stooped and lifted it up—a small grey rabbit.
She laid it down again. She placed her arm about him.
“Come quickly,” she said. “Comb your hair.”
She pushed him into the street. She was afraid of him, for there was something strange and hard in his mouth and he walked putting each foot down very flat and steady.
“Where are you going? What are you going to do?” He did not seem to know that she was there, clinging to him, her arm about his waist. He had forgotten her. He looked up into the air, sniffing it and smiling.
“Come,” she said, “we are going to have your boots shined.”
THE FLOWERING CORPSE
So still she lies in this closed place apart,
Her feet grown fragile for the ghostly tryst;