Orchard and Vineyard

by V. Sackville-West

DISSONANCE

CLAMOUR has riven us, clamour and din.
My hand reaches blindly out for your hand, but within
My mind cannot reach to your mind, because of the clamour and din.

Clang as of brass, an uproar that will not cease.
I would take from the strangest god or devil the gift of peace.
If the strife that divides us were suddenly stilled and would cease

I could come to you, come under washed void skies,
My thought in your thought embraced, my eyes and your eyes
Levelly meeting without the quick faltering of disguise.

But all is a harshness and rack where in vain
We strive through the grossness of flesh to discover our souls again,
And the closer we clasp one another, the further apart remain.