"We come first to suspension of judgment
And, after, we come to tranquility."
How is this true? How does it work? No peace
I find I've found enduring, but the odds,
As they grow greater, appeal to me more
And more: the dream of escape from escape,
Immortality, holds no thrill for me,
But the dream of escape before escape,
That mystery wholly belongs to me.
There is a house near a river rushing
Through the deep woods of imagination,
Furnished with food, drink, long seasons
When summer might not end, fall might not end,
Snow falls all winter, blossoms fall all spring,
And I wait, outside or by a window.