Down the soiled street. We have pattered the lessons ceaselessly—
But the faces of the boys, in the brooding, yellow light
Have shone for me like a crowded constellation of stars,
Like full-blown flowers dimly shaking at the night,
Like floating froth on an ebbing shore in the moon.
Out of each star, dark, strange beams that disquiet:
In the open depths of each flower, dark restless drops:
Twin bubbles, shadow-full of mystery and challenge in the foam’s whispering riot:
—How can I answer the challenge of so many eyes!
The thick snow is crumpled on the roof, it plunges down