20 MARCH 1964, Page 28

A Mild June Day

I have been grave all afternoon; Full of responsibility, heavy With sense of failure; riffled an hour Through manuscripts, jotted and scowled, Achieving nothing. I forget What drew me to the window Where I stood, half-seeing fragments Of sky, the sooted backs of tenements.

Then suddenly you laughed, and I With you and when you had told the phrase At which 'Responsibility' seemed only A pious lie, 'duty' A name for fear.

Perhaps our only measure If we reflect, is unexpected pleasure.

A dry bird flicked across the roof, And I was grave again, thinking, If we should lose that Afraid to amuse, Forced in the intricacies of pride to choose

Each word, each act—

It would be best to go: It would be best to turn, and quickly go.

KEITH HARRISON