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...ping and starting from sleep Alone on a seat A woman crouches. 5 I must go back to her. I want to give her Some money. Her hand slips out of the breast of her gown Asleep. My fingers creep Carefully over the sweet 10 Thumb-mound, into the palm’s deep pouches. So, the gift! God, how she starts! And looks at me, and looks in the palm of her hand! And again at me! 15 I turn and run Down the Embankment, run for my life. But why?—why? Because of my heart’s Beating like sobs, I come to myself, and stand 20 In the street spilled over splendidly With wet, flat lights. What I’ve done I know not, my soul is in strife. The touch was on the quick. I want to forget. CONTENTS BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD Thumb-mound, into the palm’s deep pouches. So, the gift! God, how she starts! ...