Kay Boyle
Were made were not for lament for sore melodious grief were not Were fashioned from the fox’s brush tomato’s heel were given Should footfall step on mountainside would come to grief by tortuous ways Were made for fertile valleys So high and perilous grows despair were not for you But wind as tasty as a seaman’s cheek would stay your hand And turn your thought to other No cradle where to rock the head The worms came through and riddled it The snails strung slime birds carried off what plumes of it To garnish rump No spinet left the flax to iron Remains the Cave the Rock the Tree Were not for you the avalanche but Cave turned mad with fire For you the Rock to shape your hand for you the Tree to shelter I saw the snails curl up like lead I saw the worms expire. The history itself began in a queer enough fashion, commenced " dear Lydia" written in the first of the book, and as if this in itself were not enough there was more for your money — a photograph allowing no mistake with a feathe
Playing now: LANDSCAPE FOR WYN HENDERSON by Kay Boyle
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