What a lot of little music can do?
The blind farmer Daylights in his cabbage
row, going crouched down between leafy skulls,
knows. He rises indifferent, far-gazing
as a fine haze disfigures the mountain.
A lot of little music can do that.
Aunt May opens her oven and Egypt
comes to town. She closes it, and sorrow
fills the coves, for she refuses to sing
“O Jerusalem,” but would rather say,
“Justice and devotion are my…