... ghosts of songs that died,
Songs of Birth and of Death, of ...
Beat million-rhythmed in the heart of my hearing,
The world is all sound and still signs of sound.
It appears that if I were perfect, I could not be perfect.
For with whoever is perfect, there is nothing more to be done.
But if there were nothing more to do, I would be very sorry: that is, I would not be perfect.
Therefore it appears that I would not be perfect if I were perfect.
[Credo, and Other Poems]
We know more than we know.