After

Like as a flamelet blanketed in smoke,So through the anæsthetic shows my life;So flashes and so fades my thought, at strifeWith the strong stupor that I heave and chokeAnd 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 painThat grinds my leg and foot; and brokenlyTime 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.