The Hollow Way in the Dark Wold > This: The Supplement
exit
The sunlight & the moonlight on the water:
where the darkness comes up & breaks into light
& of nurture we can talk of pleasure, & of
a harmony so precise it'll keep us if
— are you ever not? — any little thing'll drop it
into a municipal verdure. We don't remember.
And in this — sudden — we run within these trees.
It will pass, to sit upon the terrace, drinking our hock-&-seltzer,
"Anything for the weekend, sir?" as it drifts into a month
& the weather holds up, only, if we were once more that side.
A fire at No. 40 would be the only event to surprise us now
upon that unthought for return. But the weather here is really marvellous I'll say
— we want little except you all. Ah, vain
vain we think on gardens, fruit, the gathering & the end of time:
best & worst I suppose of all conditions — the only
that we can ever be: stuck here vibrating on one bloody breathing membrane.
But you don't believe that old canard, now do you?
You think it'll all fly away tomorrow, I know; we are here, we are it.
Viral energy is alone what keeps us. Dear
if I could write more, I would.