And on landing I lose not the longing,
That mingles my manhood with mud:
For the merry mosquitos come thronging,
With lips that laugh blithely in blood:
And fleas, with their kisses that burn me,
Bite till cruel red mouths show the stain—
Into poesy passionate turn me,
Our Lady of Pain!
And the donkeys Egyptian and spiteful
Shall share in the shame of my hymns,