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The eternal spirits pass us by
On their shooting pathways through the sky
From the starting-point of time
Since the moment they were born
On occasion they take earthly form
Appear as if before our eyes

Nothing less than terrified
Lives weighted by tablets of time
When the electric timer starts
We cover up the smallest signs
Of darkness pounding in our hearts

Now if I had gone to Liverpool
Or stayed awhile in Newcastle
And there had practised poetry
Every night with ink and pen
Crouched in the empty tenements
Waking by the railway stations

There might be doves atop Big Ben
These energies might now be clean
I might be in the slightest wise
Prepared to meet these apparitions