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Ezra Weston Loomis Pound
1885 - 1972



SILET

SILET

When I behold how black immortal ink
Drips from my deathless pen - ah, well - away!
Why should we stop at all for what I think?
There is enough in what I chance to say!

It is enough that we once came together;
What is the use of setting it to rime?
When it is autumn do we get spring weather,
Or gather may of harsh northwindish time?

It is enough that we once came together;
What if the wind has turned against the rain?
It is enough that we came once together;
Time has seen this, and will not turn again;

And who are we who know that last intent
To plague to-morrow with a testament?


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