From “Night And Day”

I IN THE WORKSHOP

Dim watery lights gleaming on gibbering faces, Faces speechful, barren of soul and sordid, Huddled and chewing a jest, lewd and gabbled insidious: Laughter, born of its dung, flashes and floods like sunlight, Filling the room with a sense of a soul lethargic and kindly, Touches my soul with a pathos, a hint of a wide desolation.