Poem .
WHAT the eye delights in no longer dictates
My-greed to enjoy ; boys, grass, the fineed-off deer–.
It leaves those figures that distantly dance - On the horizon's rim : they sign their-peace, in games.
What is put away, stays removed : music which taps The.stift drums of the ear I do not sleep with .
Though whispering through my blood. Why should faces I Lights under evening trees, bewilder the breath . That is a noteless, perpetual engine %die Mind -reconsider Projects ?
There was a wood Habitation of foxes and fleshy burrows Where I learnt to uncast my childhood, and not alone, I learnt, not alone. There were four hands, four eyes, A third mouth of the dark to kiss, two people And a third not either ; and both detible, yet different. I entered with my self. I left with a woman.
Goodbye now, goodbye : to the early and sad hills Dazed with their houses, like a faint migraine.
Orchards bear memory in cloudy branches.
The entire world roared in a child's brain.
It suffers accidents. Now, I am yours.
My questions only had their answer When they were'fully put " There are two questioners, two answerers, They must meet in a wood." The question, the answer Were never yours or mine, but always, ours. . .
Sri
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