Tomorrow I may bash you in the ribald ribs again
And publicly disown you;
But oh! Today I've need of thee . . .
Winged mongrel, mutt divine, come here and help
Me bay the piebald moon!
It was a Soul Fight at Hermione's . . .
A fat Terpsichore with polished toes . . . a barefoot she Soul
With ten Achaian toes . . . and each toe had a separate soul, she said . . .
Was there . . . not only there, but IT.
She sat upon a couch and lectured . . . not with words,
But with her toes, her eloquent, her temperamental toes . . .