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 That I received thereafter once a year, Infallibly on my birthday, with no name; Only a card, and the words printed on it. No, I was never rid of him—not quite; Although on shipboard, on my way from here To Hamburg, I believe that I forgot him. But once ashore, I should have been half ready To meet him there, risen up out of the ground, With hoofs and horns and tail and everything. Believe me, there was nothing right about him, Though it was not in Hamburg that I found him. Later, in Rome, it was we found each other, For the first time since we had been at school. There was the same slow vengeance in his eyes When he saw mine, and there was a vicious twist On his amphibious face that might have been On anything else a smile—rather like one