Screw-gumption despite cold rain and clouds drifting below treetops. Poor thing, strung up by false & falser delights; not lost, a word that weighs nothing except @3lost@1 to one's self, floating. How light these imagined loves, floating too, from the head in a night's sleep when the body's heat is nonmental. It's a happy mage that walks through the world with his eyes earthward using clouds only for a pick-me-up. The brain's not a solid thing he thinks eating calf's brains. But butchers are solid people. Somewhere between butcher and that unstable weight is ballad, some song, though not moving to our obvious harmonies. Count those waterbirds and beware, costumed as women; part air and part water. But we are drawn to them as clumsy rowboats sunk in fifty fathoms. After drifting the oceans for years. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEAUTIFUL MEALS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE ON THE SITE OF A MULBERRY-TREE PLANTED BY SHAKESPEARE ... by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE HEART OF THE SOURDOUGH by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE TO HIS MISTRESS; AN ODE by ANACREON ACHIEVEMENT by MORRIS ABEL BEER THE DEEPER FRIENDSHIP by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |