Chapter 15 No.15

Here once, through an alley Titanic

Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul,-

Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.

These were days when my heart was volcanic

As the scoriac rivers that roll,-

As the lavas that restlessly roll

Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek

In the ultimate climes of the pole,-

That groan as they roll down Mount