L'An Trentiesme De Mon Eage

And I have come upon this place

By lost ways, by a nod, by words,

By faces, by an old man's face

At Morlaix lifted to the birds,

By hands upon the tablecloth

At Aldebori's, by the thin

Child's hands that opened to the moth

And let the flutter of the moonlight in,

By hands, by voices, by the voice

Of Mrs. Whitman on the stair,

By Margaret's "If we had the choice

To choose or not - "through her thick hair,

By voices, by the creak and fall

Of footsteps on the upper floor,

By silence waiting in the hall

Between the doorbell and the door,

By words, by voices, a lost way - ,

And here above the chimney stack

The unknown constellations sway -

And by what way shall I go back?