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Conversation Galante
Conversation Galante 1917 |
| I observe: 'Our sentimental friend in
the moon! Or possibly (fantastic, I confess) It may be Prester John's balloon Or an old battred lantern hung aloft To light poor travellers to their distress.' She then:'How you digress!' And I then: 'Someone frames upon the keys That exquisite nocturne, with which we explain The night and moonshine; music which we seize To body forth our own vacuity.' She then: 'Does this refer to me?' 'Oh no, it is I who am inane.' 'You, madam, are the eternal humorist, The eternal enemy of the absolute, Giving your vagrant moods the slightest twist! With your air indifferent and imperious At a stroke our mad poetics to confute-' And - 'Are we then so serious?' |