However I Come
However I come,
on what bended knees I come,
with what quiet eyes to sing,
I must get down to the lake,
by the lake’s side I must lean,
there to think, in the sun, it was not
true—the day before, or the hour before,
it did not happen—I must drink
this sun’s core, this earth’s stone,
and watch the brimming eyebrows raised,
not in question, oh not in question,
but in reflection clean and simple as the moon.
I must not think;
but hold this quiet to be mine.