217

            I thought, in our loneliness
We sometimes fall out of this
Continuity of causes. At once
            It is as if our access to the
Communion of being had been
Interrupted, some cord severed,
            And for a while we can act
Only as would a device that had
Been disconnected from its anima.

Left without command or direct
    Imperative we are forced into
Extemporisation. The great lights
        Of our culture form a chain,
And that chain is our one hope.
We seek shelter in common loves :
        Rather to be loved than free.

It was becoming evening. Workers
Trudged home through the fields
In overalls and white shirts. Light
Struck the crown of a boy's hair :
Marigold! All else faded into blue.