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You are carried in a basket, Like a carcase from the shambles, To the theatre, a cockpit Where they stretch you on a table. Then they bid you close your eyelids, And they mask you with a napkin, And the an~sthetic reaches Hot and subtle through your being. And you gasp and reel and shudder In a rushing, swaying rapture, While the voices at your elbow Fade -- receding -- fainter -- farther. Lights about you shower and tumble, And your blood seems crystallising -- Edged and vibrant, yet within you Racked and hurried back and forward. Then the lights grow fast and furious, And you hear a noise of waters, And you wrestle, blind and dizzy, In an agony of effort, Till a sudden lull accepts you, And you sound an utter darkness . . . And awaken . . . with a struggle . . . On a hushed, attentive audience.
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