For X

[elgee]

When clerks and navvies fondle
Beside canals their wenches,
In rapture or in coma
The haunches that they handle,
And the orange moon sits idle
Above the orchard slanted-
Upon such easy evenings
We take our loves for granted.

But when, as now, the creaking
Trees on the hills of London
Like bison charge their neighbours
In wind that keeps us waking
And in the draft the scalloped
Lampshade swings a shadow,
We think of love bound over-
The mortgage on the meadow.

And one lies lonely, haunted
By limbs he half remembers,
And one, in wedlock, wonders
Where is the girl he wanted;
And some sit smoking, flicking
The ash away and feeling
For love gone up like vapour
Between the floor and ceiling.

But now when winds are curling
The tree do you come closer,
Close as an eyelid fasten
My body in darkness, darling;
Switch the light off and let me
Gather you up and gather
The power of trains advancing
Further, advancing further.

Louis MacNeice