Cut grass lies frail:
Brief is the breath
Mown stalks exhale.
Long, long the death
It dies in the white hours

My age fallen away like white swad
Floats in the middle distance, bec
An inhabited cloud. I bend closer
A lighted tenement scuttling with
O you tall game I tired myself wi

The large cool store selling cheap
Set out in simple sizes plainly
(Knitwear, Summer Casuals, Hose,
In Browns and greys, maroons and
Conjures the weekday world of thos

Strange to know nothing, never to
Of what is true or right or real,
But forced to qualify or so I fee
Or Well, it does seem so:
Someone must know.

Beyond the dark cartoons
Are darker spaces where
Small cloudy nests of stars
Seem to float on air.
These have no proper names:

Beyond all this, the wish to be al
However the sky grows dark with in
However we follow the printed dire
However the family is photographed
Beyond all this, the wish to be al

Lonely in Ireland, since it was n
Strangeness made sense. The salt
Insisting so on difference, made m
Once that was recognised, we were
Their draughty streets, end—on to

Waiting for breakfast, while she b
I looked down at the empty hotel y
Once meant for coaches. Cobblesto
But sent no light back to the load
Sunk as it was with mist down to t

The trumpet’s voice, loud and auth
Draws me a moment to the lighted g
To watch the dancers —all under tw
Solemnly on the beat of happiness.
–Or so I fancy, sensing the smoke

I feared these present years,
The middle twenties,
When deftness disappears,
And each event is
Freighted with a source—encrusting