Vi

Insanity! two leaves that dabbled down, Touched me with drizzle; and that laugh--ah, well, No laugh! an owlet hooting at the frown Night's hag-face tortures while she works her spell. Yet I had sworn, before those kisses fell Like winter on me, black as broken jet, An occult blackness like the Prince of Hell, A woman's hand had brushed my face--and yet, A bat it might have been made mad with wind and wet.