| A Dedication to My Wife... T. S. Eliot... |
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To whom I owe the leaping delight That quickens my senses in our waking time And the ryhthm that governs the repose of our sleeping time, The breathing in unison. |
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Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other We think the same thoughts without need of speech And babble the same speech without need of meaning. |
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No peevish winter wind shall chill No sullen tropic sun shall wither The roses in the rose garden which is ours and ours only |
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But this dedication is for others to read: These are private words addressed to you in public. |
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