IV.
You laugh again at this my imagery,
But I will turn your laughter from my soul,
Explain this love has humor as its goal,
That you are quainter than the simile.
You who have bound yourself so to be free,
You who will lose the part to keep the whole,
You who will quench with fire the living coal,—
O strange and unaccounted mystery.
Yes, I have flung you back your worn derision,