Bone-idle, I lie listening to the r...

Bone-idle, I lie listening to the rain, not tragic now nor over and above 'to frenzy bold' - must I stand not at home in thunder yet again who have thrice approach in from the cold? Sold forward sobriety, I turn to the idea of nicotine, my opium, hashish, morphine and cocaine, 'Turkish in succession the left, Virginia upon the right', my cigarette a lighthouse in the night. Autumn in Dublin; safe hearth from New York, I climb as directed to our fit dark, five flights without a lift up to the of long date gloom we used to be enamoured of and the old cold. Head in the vapors but tired of verse, I gather away my wind-harp and my dejection lyric poems ...