Past One O'Clock

1 She loves me-loves me not. My hands I pick and having broken my fingers fling away. So the first daisy-heads one happens to flick are plucked, and guessing, scattered into May. Let a cut and shave reveal my grey hairs. Let the silver of the years ring out endlessly ! Shameful common sense - I hope, I swear - Will never come to me. 2 It's already two. No doubt, you've gone to sleep. In the night The Milky Way with silver filigrees. I don't hurry, and there is no point in me waking and disturbing you with express telegrams. 3 The sea goes to weep. The sea goes to sleep. As they say, the incident has petered out. The love boat of life has crashed on philistine reefs You and I are quits. No need to reiterate mutual injuries, troubles and griefs. 4 D'you see, In the world what a quiet sleeps. Night tributes the sky with silver constellations. In such an hour as this, one rises and speaks to eras, history, and world creation. 5 I know the power of words, I know words' tocsin. They're not the kind applauded by the boxes. From words like these coffins burst from the earth and on their own four oaken legs stride forth. It happens they reject you, unpublished, unprinted. But saddle-girths tightening words gallop ahead. See how the centuries ring and trains crawl to lick poetry's calloused hands. I know the power of words. Seeming trifles that fall like petals beneath the heel-taps of dance. But man with his soul, his lips, his bones.