After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, Would it have been worth while, To have bitten off the matter with a smile? --T.S. Eliot My laughing lover gave to me A cup of bitter almond tea Upon which floated round and round The fragile dride chrysanthemum I held between forefinger and thumb And by two lips both slick and dumb Let slip the warm wet Flower died and reborn Porcelain cup, too thin, too green, With canine teeth bit sharp and clean And chewing splinters one by one Sliced my muscled tongue: The keen-edged green, the meat so lean The salty red, my bleeding head. I drank a cup of bitter tea My laughing lover gave to me And write these line for you to see: Enjoyed the cup but not the tea.