I Life, be my pillow. Forget, forget, forget If I once asked for wandering With never a thought of cold or wet. Forget, forget, forget, forget If I once asked for roads that fled Before resisting tread. Be nothing for my feet, life; Be something under my head . . . II Motion, motion; Life is meaningless Save in its motion. I will move, blind; I will feel nothingness, So that, itinerant, I may unwind Meanings coiled in my feet. And though there be Only the meaning of futility, Yet, moving, I shall find All that is ever found: Motion, and echoed motion, Sound . . . III The tip of a fir, And it is colored green, Over a shiny roof is seen. And who needs more, even if there were Something more than the tip of a fir? And who would think, even if they could, Of roots and trunks that have stood, have stood Through -- but who would care how many springs -- Even if there were such things? The feathery green Tip of a fir Is seen, Seen . . . | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEWS OF THE WORLD: 2 by GEORGE BARKER LILIES: 13. 'LET US NEVER COMFORT EACH OTHER INTO SLEEP' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) CHRISTMAS by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN THE TRUCE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE SIR JOHN FRANKLIN by GEORGE HENRY BOKER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE GOLDEN WEDDING by EDWARD CARPENTER |