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THE IMPORTANCE OF POETRY, OR THE COMING FORTH FROM ETERNITY INTO TIME Beyond the image of the willow There is a willow no man knows Or watches with corruptible eyes. Deep in a field where no man goes Nor bird flies The willow fronts an empty road. The bird hovers in other skies: World where only these wings exist. And elsewhere, alone, upon an abyss, The man is marching down a road. As the rays of the sun are drawn together By a curved glass and rekindled to fire So, to the poppies life and death, So does desire Draw them and bend them and bind them so, So the noise of the wings can at last be heard And the willow-image do grace to a bird And the ghost on the roadway give them word Not for forever, only a day. [~5] ...

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