Green changed to white, emerald to
opal: nothing was changed.

The man let the water trickle gently
into his glass, and as the green clouded,
a mist fell from his eyes.

And then he drank opaline.

Memories and terrors beset him. The
past tore after him like a panther and
through the blackness of the present he
saw the luminous tiger eyes of the things
to be.

But he drank opaline.

And that obscure night of the soul,
and the valley of humiliation, through
which he stumbled, were forgotten. He
saw blue vistas of undiscovered countries,
high prospects and a quiet, caressing
sea. The past shed over
him today held his hand as if it were a
little child, and tomorrow shone like a
white star: nothing was changed.

He drank opaline.

The man had known the obscure
night of the soul, laying even now in
the valley of humiliation; and the tiger
menace of the things to be was red in
the skies. But for a little while he had
forgotten.

Green changed to white, emerald to
opal: nothing was changed.

From "Absinthia Taetra" by Ernest Dowson, 1897

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