The Sentence
—In Which the Speaker Is Corrected—
He found the warmth where afternoon had lain,
And there resigned what every creature must;
I checked my step, then spent my quicker breath—
"Wilt eat and be all thy little trust?"
He wagged, because I still had said his name.
The room received us free of praise or blame.
Whilst yet I fetched the bucket and the cloth,
He brushed my knee as though I welcomed near;
Twice I removed him gently from the boards;
Twice he returned, mistaking wrath for cheer.
The cedar breathed. The rinsing water shone.
Outside, one thrush persisted in one tone.
The stain withdrew beneath the woven thread.
The grain resumed the labour of the floor.
No shadow crossed the candour of his gaze;
He waited only till I moved once more.
Nothing had altered any eye could prove.
The room kept listening after I had moved.
The kettle answered from the further wall.
A fly inscribed one circle through the light.
The chair remained exactly where it stood.
The window held the ordinary sight.
Then quietly—
The words went on obeying whom they chose.
They crossed me as the daylight crosses dust—
Without dispute, without the least delay.
He laid his forehead softly on my hand,
Possessed of no resentment to repay.
The floor grew clean beneath the whitening cloth.
The room had learnt another use for truth.
I drew the door. He crossed it as before.
His tail acquitted neither beast nor man.
The boards were dry. The bucket held clear water.
The cedar kept the fragrance with which it began.
No mark remained.
Only the house remembered who had spoken.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
