Two Quiet Hours
Give me two quiet hours
into which I might spill my world
which has not begun,
but is like the first sun
caught in its situation.
Give me time to think,
to reflect on this,
for two still hours
to look beyond dull sorrows;
there the tree bends, and towers.
Let me for a moment sit alone.
Beyond my books the world grows dim.
I see the leaves are thin,
whirl and fall endlessly in.