Direct me gods, whose changes are all holy, To where it flickers deep in grass, the moly.

These seem like bristles, and the hide is tough. No claw or web here: each foot ends in hoof.

Thus for each blunt-faced ignorant one The great grey rigid uniform combined Safety with virtue of the sun. Thus concepts linked like chainmail in the mind.

One joins the movement in a valueless world, Choosing it, till both hurler and the hurled, One moves as well, always toward, toward.

'Shells with lip, or tooth, or bleeding gum, Tell-tale shells, and shells that whisper 'Come', Shells that stammer, blush, and yet are dumb - ' 'O let me hear!'

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea A vision came o'er me Of thundering hooves and beating wings In clouds above.

Along A River-Side, I Know Not Where, I walked one night in mystery of dream; A chill creeps curdling yet beneath my hair, To think what chanced me by the pall…