The Hour

By the fung-dappled stones

Two flies cavort

Above marrowless bones in their bliss

Through the soil slides the worm

Happy, hungry, then devoured,

When round earth

Opens mouth up above

And the hour gains its grains

And the sea immortal rains

And the jackalous earth is unsated

But the heart shrinks in horror at the earth, the sea, the hour

Falls to its knees and bays for our tombstone-earth-sea-hour.