VI — AFTER

Like as a flamelet blanketed in smoke,

So through the anaesthetic shows my life;

So flashes and so fades my thought, at strife

With the strong stupor that I heave and choke

And sicken at, it is so foully sweet.

Faces look strange from space — and disappear.

Far voices, sudden loud, offend my ear -

And hush as sudden. Then my senses fleet:

All were a blank, save for this dull, new pain

That grinds my leg and foot; and brokenly

Time and the place glimpse on to me again;

And, unsurprised, out of uncertainty,

I wake — relapsing — somewhat faint and fain,

To an immense, complacent dreamery.