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90 The moonlight Fubbed the girandoles.

And the cold dresses that they wore, In the vapid haze of the window-bays, Waere tranquil As they leaned and looked

From the window-sills at the alphabets, At beta b and gamma g, To study The canting curlicues

Of heaven and of the heavenly script. And there they read of marriage-bed. Ti-lill-o! And they read right long.

The gaunt guitarists on the strings Rumbled a-day and a-day, a-day. The moonlight Rose on the beachy floors.

How explicit the coiffures became, The diamond point, the sapphire point, The sequins Of the civil fans!

Insinuations of desire, Puissant speech, alike in each, Cried quittance To the wickless halls.

Then from their poverty they rose, From dry guitars, and to catarrhs They flitted Through the palace walls.