After

Like as a flamelet blanketed in smoke,
So through the anaesthetic 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 uncertainty, 
I awake — relapsing — somewhat faint and fain. 
To an immense, complacent dreamery.