I won’t describe—that is, if I can help
Description; and I won’t reflect—that is,
If I can stave off thought, which—as a whelp
Clings to its teat—sticks to me through the abyss
Of this odd labyrinth; or as the kelp
Holds by the rock; or as a lover’s kiss
Drains its first draught of lips:—but, as I said,
I won’t philosophise, and will be read.