Geoffrey Grigson
And what was the big room he walked in?
The big room he walked in,
Over the smooth floor,
Under the sky light,
Was his own brain.
And what was it he admired there?
He admired there
The oval mirror.
And what was it the oval mirror showed him there?
It showed him the roots
Through the ceiling,
The gross armchair, the bookcase
Shuttered with glass,
The Hymns bound in velvet,
The porcelain oven,
The giant egg cups,
The hairy needles,
And the silence
And the smell of smouldering dung
Hung between the walls
(Which were yellow as dandelion).
And how did he leave?
On the smooth floor
His neat feet jarred
And his teeth grew down
To his heart, and he slipped
On the white stairhead -
Which ended?
Which ended in coldness
And darkness,
Through which he fell
(So they tell)
With little hope, and slowly.
No comments:
Post a Comment