FEVER

FEVER   Come, physician, minister to me. Come cure my wanton ills. Come use your orphic arts To ease the eldritch aches around my heart, douse the uninvited conflagration in my loins and still, sphinx-like, the roaming restless gestures of my will.   Well … maybe not Since what ails me, also enlivens me what hurts, pleases and what remains is just the fitter part: so waste no time in binding wounds: sift the sorrows, hoist the joys and count the languid gains and not the listless loss.