Cxxxi

That is well. Our double horoscope I cast, while you concur. Discard that simile O' the fickle element! Elvire is land not sea-- The solid land, the safe. All these word-bubbles came O' the sea, and bite like salt. The unlucky bath's to blame. This hand of yours on heart of mine, no more the bay I beat, nor bask beneath the blue! In Pornic, say, The Mayor shall catalogue me duly domiciled, Contributable, good-companion of the guild And mystery of marriage. I stickle for the town, And not this tower apart; because, though, halfway down, Its mullions wink o'erwebbed with bloomy greenness, yet Who mounts to staircase top may tempt the parapet, And sudden there 's the sea! No memories to arouse, No fancies to delude! Our honest civic house Of the earth be earthy too!--or graced perchance with shell Made prize of long ago, picked haply where the swell Menaced a little once--or seaweed-branch that yet Dampens and softens, notes a freak of wind, a fret Of wave: though, why on earth should sea-change mend or mar The calm contemplative householders that we are? So shall the seasons fleet, while our two selves abide: E'en past astonishment how sunrise and springs tide Could tempt one forth to swim; the more if time appoints That swimming grow a task for one's rheumatic joints. Such honest civic house, behold, I constitute Our villa! Be but flesh and blood, and smile to boot! Enter for good and all! then fate bolt fast the door, Shut you and me inside, never to wander more!