No man lives the moment - the light Is too crudely rudely staring… Oh I remember country in the flight Of evening funerals after much child bearing. Not swallows septembered on waves of tile Or the eagerings of apriltime is the full Of my third eye - but the angel while When God was unstirred mud in a shallow pool The Rages blow the dust out of the presses. My two sense-eyes are observant - I know The fume and the fretful processes Of world-thrown jail-birds and their face-brave show Thy Kingdom Come. Thy Gone Flashes its broken nimbus [?] with a laugh No man has worn the moment's perfect one Time's tom tick delivers  of chaff. § · Line 5 is a correction of: 'Not swallows septembered on tiles or seas'. Line 7: 'Of my third eye - but the baby glees' Lines 13 and 14: 'The Kingdom Come. We see the gone Flashing its broken nimbus like a laugh'.