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If I look back now, as I pass this way
along these houses and exquisite gardens,
coming up close and individual,
I prime the silence of my wakeful soul,
which plays, while the body moves its way,
a slower, more compelling form and order;
to find of all considerations weighed
unknown, one moves my mind like a deeper
comfort, as though the humble soul need feel
nor envy nor desire to possess, but reel
along its axis in ecstasy
the extra-carnal truth of its deepest recognition:
have I possessed these things, dreams realised! -
the better to understand their passing.
(Written, while a student, after a walk down Brownberrie Lane, Horsforth, Yorkshire, England)
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