This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.
The Garden of Self-delight
In that garden to the south
the civil gods are ranged
like statues in a maze
of vines and bay leaves.
The fountain grows a dance
of dreaming surfaces -
none of my slow guesses
will tell how deep they are.
And the men who walk the paths
...
the civil gods are ranged
like statues in a maze
of vines and bay leaves.
The fountain grows a dance
of dreaming surfaces -
none of my slow guesses
will tell how deep they are.
And the men who walk the paths
...
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