An Intimation

I could not pass a patch of light upon the grass.

I could not leave it be without it make some mark on me.

What did I want with it? I could not tell. I could not ask.

That night, in sleep, I dreamed.

I dreamed I walked beside a shade at eventide.

There was no light, there was no trace of day upon that face

Save within the eyes. There I could find

A light as fine as lace.

I went inside. I entered through the eyes

A world that beggars sight, its edges paved in light

And there I found my kingly patch. With piteous cries

I took it, held it tight.

You, my patch, are home, I said; no longer lone

Shall I step out into the green and lovely world without a beam

Of light from you—though faded and forlorn—

An echo of the dream.