Summer 1941
Old Series · Volume 3, No. 3

the PATTERN

Now the rain crow's crying, now the rose petal falls,
And these are two separate pursuits to the end
As now the rain crow's crying, as now the rose
Loosens its petals in the finite wind.

But this is the mental sorrow of all ending,
The shattering image of that still-born heir
As this cold star must generate the last
Generation colder than its star,

Even as the fin-footed children of the surf
Or in darkness the pilot star-nosed mole,
As the white mountain goat feeding on anenomes,
As whatever does seem beautiful,

The rain crow crying, and the last red rose,
The rabbits quivering in meadow holes.
For in the abstract there were these present flaws
Whereof the rain crow cries, rose petal falls.

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