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a sort of railway station
in a small town with a theatre
it’s a comfy place
one knows the people there
it welcomes you
you have won
that’s what would have happened
the spectacular things have written themselves
across the zodiac
blankly
all the girls were there
the bright mentality
the weigher of purposes
the distinguisher of finer things
the lioness
with our purposive figments
it is a very happy converse
top to bottom
and here is the time of day
when the buggering gods hid their faces
and the Dea Mater shrouded us
dance attendance upon us
in our beds
beside the reliquaries
the disputations continue
and we are as subdued
here we miscalculate
as well as we can
it is made to order for we
have worked very hard
to bear away the simple palms
and the bays as one
what do we think about it?
it is a sealed door
with magnificent openings
to be gracious tends
to help a little
a Consort of broken Musicke
if I might suggest something
else try
this
the great day
looked at most
analytically
from the point of view
of a standard perspective
nothing changes really
only the mind refreshes
and finds refreshment
a long drink of lemonade
off the screened porch
where you might sit if you cared to
but probably you would flit
and be gathered into the heat
the hopeless turmoil of day
where you had spied relief
in the gloom
the strenuous décor
of a silent calm room
where you can find delectation
the stage above the ballroom
is a place where you can view the guests
over your music
it is the most spectacular thing
a London Sunday
where you can reflect
over the long courses
that vanish in the memory
they are as guests
with a sorrowful aspect
in the large view
from the back of the park
the stammering discourses
the metaphors
we have collected them all
and given them a home
barely visible
but at all events scarcely
perceptible
if at all
quite urbane and witty
nobly refined even
we might say
no not ever
to that degree
even if you could think of it
in that way
all wrapped up and ready to go
tooting its own horn
with a brace of waterworks
to its own head
swimmingly its
overdoors and plinths
quod vetus urbs coluit
nunc nova villa tenet
between you and me
there's more than us and thee
there is the whole city
with its strict principles of use
you enter via the Arc de Triomphe
and find yourselves out on the street
whether you know it or not
it is the solid gaol
you cannot escape from
without a better hope
in a better sense
of that term
without terminus