Even nowI mind that I loved cypress and roses, dear,The great blue mountains and the small gray hills,The sounding of the sea. Upon a dayI saw strange eyes and hands like butterflies;For me at morning larks flew from the thymeAnd children came to bathe in little streams.

Doc closed the book. He could hear the waves beat under the piles and he could hear the scampering of white rats against the wire. He went into the kitchen and felt the cooling water in the sink. He ran hot water into it. He spoke aloud to the sink and the white rats, and to himself:

Even nowI know that I have savored the hot taste of lifeLifting green cups and gold at the great feast.Just for a small and a forgotten timeI have had full in my eyes from off my girlThe whitest pouring of eternal light —

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. And the white rats scampered and scrambled in their cages. And behind the glass the rattlesnakes lay still and stared into space with their dusty frowning eyes.