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insisted that she get up. “You must not be so unfriendly,
on our gillyflower bed covered now only with dust!”68 He must have had in mind the pinks of the
“Now I go to see whether yonder on that shore where seafolk burn salt their fires send such smoke aloft as rose at Toribeno.”
“Is this then the pain of parting at dawn?
no, in a world evermore gone mad that would only make things worse.”
“Ah, river of tears! The froth floating on that stream will vanish quite soon, long before the current runs laughing over happier shoals.”16
