'BEES of old Spanish wine br Pipe at this Inn to-night, br Music and candleshine br Fill the dim chambers . . . . br 'Fans toss and ladies pace, br Flutes of cold metal blow, br Maidens like winds of lace br Tease the dark passages . . . . br 'Run, you fat kitchen-boys, br Pasties in pyramids br Rise while your masters poise br Flagons with silver lids . . . . br 'Ha! Let the platters fume, br Jars wink and bottles drip, br Staining with smoke and spume br Lips, tables, tapestries . . . . br 'Wenches with tousled silk, br Mouths warm and bubble eyes, br Tumble those beds of milk br Under carved canopies . . . . br 'Now let your lovers dive br Deep to that hurricane . . . . br O, to be there alive, br Breathing again!' br So the ghost cried, and pressed to the dark pane, br Like a white leaf, his face . . . in vain . . . in vain..