Stunned by the consecrated frown of this child,
Whose fingers stumble over keys, pelting
The room with showers of tinkling tone;
Whose bright braids sway and whose mouth is fruited,
And who, glowing in a pink frock, curtseys;
Cushioned and cool I breathe in silver water,
Melt in the center of sunlight.
Over seaweed lace on the shore of a cape
A gull once caught me with flashes, gliding,
And lay stark white upon the water; and a black fin
Like a looting blade slashed the sea,
And the gull vanished with splashing.
Now, regardless of grandeur, bellowing
Mongrels drag down a fawn in my forest;
And I, heartless in glutting my hungers,
Have shaken in an eclipse of the sun.
Damp, hot, black in my ultimate and earthy cave,
Watching this child
I dream: myself those dogs, that dark.
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