In cubes of blue, in curves of mauve,
They spotted up my firmament;
And with my sharp grey heart I strove
To stab the colours as they went.
“Lou-la ...” they said—“Lou-la, a thing
At war without a following.”
“Lou-la ...” they cried—and now cry I—
“At war without an enemy....”
“I can’t think how you dare to speak out your imagination,” said the suffragette. “Most people hide it like a sin.”
He was always willing to be the text of his own oratory.