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Whym Chow: Flame of Love

By Michael Field [i.e. K. H. Bradley and E. E. Cooper]

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35

XVIII. IN EXTREMIS.

When thou wert lying dead, Chow, I was at the poles
Of passion where its world most sharply, swiftly rolls,
In midst of ice, of icebergs riftless and of snow.
I spoke to thee with voice that panted fast and slow
Against the force I breathed of that extremest cold,
While at my heart quick love round its own being rolled.