The Smiles Of The Bathers

The smiles of the bathers fade as they leave the water,

And the lover feels sadness fall as it ends, as he leaves his love.

The scholar, closing his book as the midnight clock strikes, is hollow

     and old:

The pilot's relief on landing is no release.

These perfect and private things, walling us in, have imperfect and

     public endings—

Water and wind and flight, remembered words and the act of love

Are but interruptions. And the world, like a beast, impatient and

     quick,

Waits only for those who are dead. No death for you. You are

     involved.