The Criterion/Volume 4/Number 2/Poem
POEM
NO lamp has ever shown us where to look
Neither the promiscuous
And every-touching moon
Neither the promiscuous
And every-touching moon
nor stars
Either with their not much caring
Either with their not much caring
nor
Lights to sea-ward and far off
Not meant for us
Lights to sea-ward and far off
Not meant for us
nor say the flash
From darkened promontories that
Goes out leaving an afterward
Of trees no more
nor even
The whole sun
No
Within
The buried staring eyes of one
A long time dead, long drowned, there stands
Still fixed upon impenetrable skies
The small black circle of the sun.
From darkened promontories that
Goes out leaving an afterward
Of trees no more
nor even
The whole sun
No
Within
The buried staring eyes of one
A long time dead, long drowned, there stands
Still fixed upon impenetrable skies
The small black circle of the sun.