‘Dockery was junior to you,
Wasn’t he?’ said the Dean. ‘His s
Death-suited, visitant, I nod. ‘A
You keep in touch with—’ Or remem
Black-gowned, unbreakfasted, and s

Those long uneven lines
Standing as patiently
As if they were stretched outside
The Oval or Villa Park,
The crowns of hats, the sun

The widest prairies have electric
For though old cattle know they mu
Young steers are always scenting p
Not here but anywhere. Beyond the
Leads them to blunder up against t

Obedient daily dress,
You cannot always keep
That unfakable young surface.
You must learn your lines —
Anger, amusement, sleep;

Thinking in terms of one
Is easily done—
One room, one bed, one chair,
One person there,
Makes perfect sense; one set

Standing under the fobbed
Impendent belly of Time
Tell me the truth, I said,
Teach me the way things go.
All the other lads there

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

Once I am sure there’s nothing go
I step inside, letting the door th
Another church: matting, seats, an
And little books; sprawlings of fl
For Sunday, brownish now; some br

New eyes each year
Find old books here,
And new books, too,
Old eyes renew;
So youth and age

You do not come dramatically, with
That rear up with my life between
And dash me butchered down beside
The horses panicking; nor as a cla
Clearly set out to warn what can b