There is an evening coming in
Across the fields, one never seen
That lights no lamps.
Silken it seems at a distance, yet
When it is drawn up over the knees

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling
A hedgehog jammed up against the b
Killed. It had been in the long g
I had seen it before, and even fed
Now I had mauled its unobtrusive

Even so distant, I can taste the
Bitter and sharp with stalks, he m
The sun’s occasional print, the br
Worry of wheels along the street o
Where bridal London bows the othe

Closed like confessionals, they th
Loud noons of cities, giving back
None of the glances they absorb.
Light glossy grey, arms on a plaqu
They come to rest at any kerb:

Delay, well, travellers must expec
Delay. For how long? No one seems
With all the luggage weighed, the
It can’t be long... We amble too
Sit in steel chairs, buy cigarette

Since the majority of me
Rejects the majority of you,
Debating ends forwith, and we
Divide. And sure of what to do
We disinfect new blocks of days

Once I believed in you,
And then you came,
Unquestionably new, as fame
Had said you were. But that was l
You launched no argument,

In this dream that dogs me I am p
Of a silent crowd walking under a
Leaving a football match, perhaps,
All moving the same way. After a
A second wall closes on our right,

Always too eager for the future, w
Pick up bad habits of expectancy.
Something is always approaching; e
Till then we say,
Watching from a bluff the tiny, cl

Down stucco sidestreets,
Where light is pewter
And afternoon mist
Brings lights on in shops
Above race—guides and rosaries,