The Plunge

I would bathe myself in strangeness:

These comforts heaped upon me, smother me!

I burn,

I scald so for the new,

New friends, new faces,

Places!

Oh to be out of this,

This that is all I wanted- save the new.

And you,

Love, you the much, the more desired!

Do I not loathe all walls, streets, stones,

All mire, mist, all fog,

All ways of traffic?

You,

I wold have flow over me like water,

Oh, but far out of this!

Grass, and low fields, and hills,

And sun,

Oh, sun enough!

Out, and alone, among

Alien people!