You may smell the breath of the gods in the common
roses,
and feel the
splendour of the gods go through you, even as you
see the green-fly on the
stems,
in the summer
morning:
or you may
not.
If you don’t then don’t pretend you do —
but if you don’t you are suffering from an amnesia
of the senses:
you are like to die of
malnutrition of the senses:
and your sensual atrophy
will at last send you
insane.