Sunday 13 September 2020

Text of the Poem | Marginalia By Richard Wilbur | Eureka Study Aids

1. Things concentrate at the edges; the pond-sruface
2. Is bourne to fish and man and it is spread
3. In textile scum and damask light, on which
4. The lily-pads are set; and there are also
5. Inlaid ruddy twigs, becalmed pine-leaves, 
6. Air-baubles, and the chain mail of froth. 

7. Descending into sleep (as when the night-lift
8. Falls past a brilliant floor), we glimpse a sublime
9. Decor and hear, perhaps, a complete music, 
10. But this evades us, as in the night meadows
11. The crickets' million round song dies away
12. From all advances, rising in every distance. 

13. Our riches are centrifugal, men compose
14. Daily, unwittingly, their final dreams
15. And those are our own voices whose remote
16. Consummate chorus rides on the whirlpool rim, 
17. Past which we flog are sails, toward which we drift, 
18. Plying our trades, in hopes of a good drowning

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