Hart Crane





Forgetfulness

That, freed from beat and measure, wanders. 
Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled, 
Outspread and motionless, —unwearyingly. 

Forgetfulness is rain at night, 
Or an old house in a forest, —or a child. 
Forgetfulness is white, —white as a blasted tree, 
And it may stun the sybil into prophecy, 
Or bury the Gods. 

I can remember much forgetfulness.