他们眼中的透视永不枯萎;它们守着春天温顺的命令，把南极三月和八月的天空混合在一起:它们不过是母牛，除了草和雪，以及它们内心的存在，什么也看不见，透过那丰富的光环，它们甚至不屑于给转瞬即逝的季节投上光环，尽管它们会在去年消瘦而死去?碎秸。它们笨拙、笨重、笨拙……而我们这些压榨苹果酒的人呢?我们，谁用誓言品尝友谊的明亮的烦恼?酸酒，化痰，移报复。但谁能告诉我们，什么时候玩笑太过尖刻，太过温和?)夸口说，我们对别人有太多的信心，而他们自己却会跟踪最快活的鬼魂。在他们上面是古老的后桅楼，富丽堂皇的白色旅馆?一层一层到五角形屋顶舷窗，天花板堆叠着他们坚忍的高度。一层层长长的窗户凝视着过去的面孔?松散的玻璃覆盖在山顶上，在日落时以一种沉默的、蛛网般的耐心闪烁着光芒… See them, like eyes that still uphold some dream Through mapled vistas, cancelled reservations! High from the central cupola, they say One?s glance could cross the borders of three states; But I have seen death?s stare in slow survey From four horizons that no one relates . . . Weekenders avid of their turf-won scores, Here three hours from the semaphores, the Czars Of golf, by twos and threes in plaid plusfours Alight with sticks abristle and cigars. This was the Promised Land, and still it is To the persuasive suburban land agent In bootleg roadhouses where the gin fizz Bubbles in time to Hollywood?s new love-nest pageant. Fresh from the radio in the old Meeting House (Now the New Avalon Hotel) volcanoes roar A welcome to highsteppers that no mouse Who saw the Friends there ever heard before. What cunning neighbors history has in fine! The woodlouse mortgages the ancient deal Table that Powitzky buys for only nine- Ty-five at Adams? auction,?eats the seal, The spinster polish of antiquity . . . Who holds the lease on time and on disgrace? What eats the pattern with ubiquity? Where are my kinsmen and the patriarch race? The resigned factions of the dead preside. Dead rangers bled their comfort on the snow; But I must ask slain Iroquois to guide Me farther than scalped Yankees knew to go: Shoulder the curse of sundered parentage, Wait for the postman driving from Birch Hill With birthright by blackmail, the arrant page That unfolds a new destiny to fill . . . . So, must we from the hawk?s far stemming view, Must we descend as worm?s eye to construe Our love of all we touch, and take it to the Gate As humbly as a guest who knows himself too late, His news already told? Yes, while the heart is wrung, Arise?yes, take this sheaf of dust upon your tongue! In one last angelus lift throbbing throat? Listen, transmuting silence with that stilly note Of pain that Emily, that Isadora knew! While high from dim elm-chancels hung with dew, That triple-noted clause of moonlight? Yes, whip-poor-will, unhusks the heart of fright, Breaks us and saves, yes, breaks the heart, yet yields That patience that is armour and that shields Love from despair?when love forsees the end? Leaf after autumnal leaf break off, descend? descend?