Dream Song 29

77 Dream Songs (1964)

There sat, once, down a thing on Henry’s hearts— heavy, if he had a hundred years& more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them timeHenry could not make good.Starts again always in Henry’s earsthe little cough somewhere, an odour, a chime.

And there is another thing he has in mindlike a grave Sienese face a thousand yearswould fail to blur the still profiled reproach of. Ghastly,with open eyes, he attends, blind.All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears;thinking.

But never did Henry, as he thought he did,end anyone and hacks her body upand hide the pieces, where they may be found.He knows: he went over everyone, &nobody’s missing.Often he reckons, in the dawn, them up.Nobody is ever missing.

77 Dream Songs (1964)