Also naked, misery gleams and is soon gone.
I hear, as if it were pebbles thrown
Against a metal awning, music from dreamland
Calling old misery, coaxing her eternal
Moon-blanched hoo-ha home.

And that leaves me. And that leaves you.
Beloved, choose any one you like of my alarms.
Make love to me on the fire-escape.
In the apartment upstairs, the Aegean,
And in the one above that one, the North Sea
Ebb and flow.

Joy is the laundry drying on the roof:
Immaculate laundry, not ignorant,
But white and wise as the Sophoclean moon.