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How dare one
say it?
After the cycles, poems, singers, plays,
Vaunted Ionia's, India's -Homer, Shakespeare -the long,
long times, thick
dotted roads, areas,
The shining
clusters and the Milky Ways of stars -Nature's pulses
reaped,
All retrospective passions, heroes, war,
love, adoration,
All ages' plummets dropped to their
utmost depths,
All human lives, throats, wishes,
brains -all experiences' utterance;
After the
countless songs, or long or short, all tongues, all
lands,
Still something not yet told in poesy's voice
or print -something lacking,
(Who knows? the best yet
unexpressed and lacking.)
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