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Hears the song in the egg ofa bird. The sun shall have told him that song Ofa father returning from darkness, For the king)sgrave turnsyou to light. All dark is now no more. In yourpalm is the secret ofwaking. Put duwn those seeds in your hand; All Presences change into trees. A feather shall driftfrom thepine-top. The sun shall have toldyou this songJ For this is thegrave ofthe king; For the king)sgrave turnsyou to light. The Under:ground Stream I lay at the edge ofa well, And thought how to bury my smile Under the thorn, where the leaf, At the sill ofoblivion safe, Put forth its instant green In a flow from underground. I sought how the spirit could fall Down this moss-feathered well: The motion by which my face Could descend through structureless grass, Dreaming oflove, and pass Through solid earth, to rest On the unseen water's breast, Timelessly smiling, and free Ofthe world, oflight, and ofme. I made and imagined that smile To float there, mile on mile Ofstreaming, unknowable wonder, Overhearing a silence like thunder Possess every stone ofthe well Forever, where my face fell From the upper, springtime world, And my odd, living mouth unfurled Into the Stone / 50 An eternal grin, while I In the bright and stunned grass lay And turned to air without age. My first love fingered a page And sang with Campion. The heart in my breast turned green; I entered the words afresh, At one with her singing flesh. But all the time I felt The secret triumph melt Down through the rooted thorn, And the smile I filtered through stone Motionless lie, not murmuring But listening only, and hearing My image ofjoy flow down. I turned from the girl I had found In a song once sung by my mother, And loved my one true brother, The tall cadaver, who Either grew or did not grow, But smiled, with the smile ofsinging, Or a smile ofincredible longing To rise through a circle ofstone, Gazing up at a sky, alone Visible, at the top ofa well, And seeking for years to /deliver His mouth from the endless river Ofmy oil-on-the-water smile, And claim his own grave face That mine might live in its place. I lay at the edge ofa well; And then I smiled, and fell. The String Except when he enters my son, The same age as he at his death, I cannot bring my brother to myself. I do not have his memory in my life, The String / 5I ...

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