MEMORIAL

The wild October sky

Rises not so high,

The tree's roots that creep

Into the earth's body thrust not so deep

As our high and dark thought.

Yet thought need not roam

Far off to bring you home.

The sky is our wild mind,

Your roots are round our spirits twined,

To ours are your hearts caught.

O, never buried dead!

The living brain in the head

Is not so quick as you

Burning our conscious darkness through

With brightness past our thought.