Your thoughts, br dreaming on a softened brain, br like an over-fed lackey on a greasy settee, br with my heart's bloody tatters I'll mock again; br impudent and caustic, I'll jeer to superfluity. br br Of Grandfatherly gentleness I'm devoid, br there's not a single grey hair in my soul! br Thundering the world with the might of my voice, br I go by - handsome, br twenty-two-year-old. br br Gentle ones! br You lay your love on a violin. br The crude lay their love on a drum. br but you can't, like me, turn inside out entirely, br and nothing but human lips become! br br Out of chintz-covered drawing-rooms, come br and learn- br decorous bureaucrats of angelic leagues. br br and you whose lips are calmly thumbed, br as a cook turns over cookery-book leaves.