On the very floor below me, I have heard the patron say,
They were put in No. 13 (No. 36, to-day).
But they parted—“elle et lui” did—and it now occurs to me
That mosquitoes came between them in this “kingdom by the sea.”
Poor dead lovers, and such brains, too! What am I that I should swear
When the creatures munch my forehead, taking more than I can spare?
Should I live to meet the morning, should the climate readjust
Any reparable fragments left upon my outer crust,
Why, at least I still am extant, and a dog that sees the sun
Has the pull of Danieli’s den of “lions,” dead and done.