Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table[.]
In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo.
For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. So how should I presume?
I should have been a pair of ragged claws Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.