Think you’ve got your head wrapped around The Convergence of the Twain? Put your knowledge to
the test. Good luck — the Stickman is counting on you!
Q. In the solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity
Stilly couches she
And the Pride of Life that planned her
swim the fishes
Q. Over the mirrors meant
to lie lightless and blind
a sea-worm crawls indifferent
to glass the opulent
to ravish the sensuous mind
Q. The Immanent Will
that stirs and urges everything
that couches she
of two halves of one august event
and the Spinner of the Years
Q. Alien they seemed to be
on paths coincident
no mortal eye could see
in stature, grace, and hue
in shadowy silent distance grew
Q. Cold currents thrid
in one august event
on paths coincident
and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres
no mortal eye could see