Spinning upon their central thirst like tops,

They went the Negative Way toward the Dry;

Be empty caves beneath an empty sky

They emptied out their memories like a slop

Which made a foul marsh as they dried to death,

Where monsters bred who forced them to forget

The lovelies their consent avoided; yet

Still praising the Absurd with their last breath.

They seeded out into their miracles:

The images of each grotesque temptation

Became some painter's happiest inspiration;

And barren wives and burning virgins came

To drink the pure cold water of their wells,

And wish for beaux and children in their name.