The Vigil

Here in the naked primal night, Here where the VEILED sits graven in silence in ITS garden of weeds, Here where the NOTHING drowses and mutters of a SOMETHING to come; Here where the fangs of my soul have fastened at last; Here where through wild-steaming streams of passion and great shroud-like dawns I have dragged my undying Desire-- Here, too, will I vigil with THEE through the glutted eternities-- Thou imbecile artisan, thou bungler, evader, rhetor and faun!