22 JANUARY 1960, Page 21

Surgical Ward : Men

Something occurred after the operation To scare the surgeons (though no fault of theirs) Whose reassurance did not fool me long.

Beyond the shy, concerned faces of nurses A single blood-red eye, focusing on me, Forced sweat in rivers down from scalp to belly. I whistled, gasped or sang, with whitening knuckles Clutched at my bed-grip almost till it cracked : Too proud, still, to let loose Bedlamite screeches And bring the charge-nurse scuttling down the aisle With morphia-needle levelled . . .

Lady Morphia—

Her scorpion kiss and dark gyrating dreams— She in mistrust of whom I dared out-dare, Two minutes longer than seemed possible, Pain, that unpurposed, matchless elemental, Stronger than fear or grief, stranger than love.

ROBERT GRAVES © 1960