Autumn 1949 • Vol. XI No. 4 Poetry |

Siege

The courtyards of the inner heart go round And round, so sure are they Where they will end; the brick Convolutions enter and extend The individual life, and come to end. Beyond, the plains of the universe prison hope So thin so fast A courier must televize what spins Political or polar in the shape Of one short trip. Between, in middle distance, where the seasons In plenitude emerge, Figures move together on the open Course, out of the beleaguered heart, Out of the universal siege.

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