1939

Tell me demon eyes that know

All that grows invisibly

About us, what it is that you

See that our eyes cannot see.

I see the vegetable years . ..

The thicket in the thinking mist

Drip incredible black tears

Over an old romanticist . ..

See the great trees that tempered noon

Thicken and lean about a house

Where no dog barks and no light shows

Through the gross trunks and twisted boughs,

And hear a whisper far within

Granting permission . . . hear the sound

Of grinding in the house of man

Of Druid knife on Druid stone.