once it was the colour of saying
Soaked my table the uglier side of a hill
With a capsized field where a school sat still
And a black and white patch of girls grew playing；
The gentle seaslides of saying I must undo1
That all the charmingly drowned arise to cockcrow and kill.
When I whistled with mitching boys through a reservoir park
Where at night we stoned the cold and cuckoo
Lovers in the dirt of their leafy beds，
The shade of their trees was a word of many shades
And a lamp of lightning for the poor in the dark；
Now my saying shall be my undoing2，
And every stone I wind off like a reel.
