I had over-prepared the event, that much was ominous. With middle-ageing care I had laid out just the right books. I had almost turned down the pages. @3Beauty is so rare a thing@1. @3So few drink of my fountain@1. So much barren regret, So many hours wasted! And now I watch, from the window, the rain, the wandering busses. "Their little cosmos is shaken" -- the air is alive with that fact. In their parts of the city they are played on by diverse forces. How do I know? Oh, I know well enough. For them there is something afoot. As for me; I had over-prepared the event -- @3Beauty is so rare a thing So few drink of my fountain@1. Two friends: a breath of the forest . . . Friends? Are people less friends because one has just, at last, found them? Twice they promised to come. @3"Between the night and morning?" Beauty would drink of my mind@1. Youth would awhile forget my youth is gone from me. II ("Speak up! You have danced so stiffly? Someone admired your works, And said so frankly. "Did you talk like a fool, The first night? The second evening?" "@3But@1 they promised again: 'To-morrow at tea-time'.") III Now the third day is here -- no word from either; No word from her nor him, Only another man's note: "Dear Pound, I am leaving England." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17. A LOVER'S PLEA by THOMAS CAMPION BOADICEA; AN ODE by WILLIAM COWPER ON AN INVITATION TO THE UNITED STATES by THOMAS HARDY IRELAND by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR CALLER HERRIN' by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 14 by ALFRED TENNYSON |