T.E Hulme

Under the Sun’s intense embrace

Shelter to all near and far

Where lived in the past, not too distant

Carry it on  back, as far as you can go

Three numbers strapped sealed to one’s heart 

Dreams begot in a Field, others could;t escape

Forged in an older state, new but incomplete,

The key  to the land, but no instructions 

Success  but limited by nature

Failure to even try an attempt 

Blind without prophecy, sight with  no vision 

Above the quiet dock in mid night,

Tangled in the tall mast’s corded height,

Hangs the moon. What seemed so far away

Lighthearted I walked into the valley wood

In the time of hyacinths,

Till beauty like a scented cloth

Cast over, stifled me. I was bound

Motionless and faint over breath

By loveliness that is her own eunuch.

Now pass I to I to the final river

Ignominiously, in a sack , without sound,

A touch of cold in the autumn night---

I walked abroad, 

And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge

Like a red-faced farmer.

I did not speak, but nodded,

And round were the wistful stars

Once in finesse of fiddles found I ecstasy, 

In the flash of gold heels on the hard pavement.

Now See I 

The warmth’s the very stuff of poesy.

Oh, God, make small

The old star-eaten blanket of the sky,