We’ll live here.
And would it have been worth it, after all?
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea...
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me?
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile?
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question?
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say:
“That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”
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