Likeas a flamelet blanketed in smoke,

So through the anæsthetic shows my life;

So flashes and so fades my thought, at strife

With the strong stupor that I heave and choke

And sicken at, it is so foully sweet.

Faces look strange from space—and disappear.

Far voices, sudden loud, offend my ear—

And hush as sudden. Then my senses fleet:

All were a blank save for this dull, new pain

That grinds my leg and foot; and brokenly

Time and the place glimpse on to me again;

And, unsurprised, out of certainty,

I wake—relapsing—somewhat faint and fain,

To an immense, complacent dreamery.

William Ernest Henley,

London Voluntaries, 1898.