Swann's Way/To E. J. C.

ere, Summer lingering, loiter I
 * When I, with Summer, should be gone...

Where only London lights the sky
 * I go, and with me journeys 'Swann'

Whose pages' dull laborious woof
 * Covers a warp of working-time,

Of firelit nights beneath your roof
 * And sunlit days beneath the limes,

While both at once or each in turn,
 * Sharp tongued but smooth, like buttered knifes,

We pared, with studied unconcern,
 * The problems of our private lives;

Those tiny problems, dense yet clear,
 * Like ivory balls by Chinese craft

Pierced (where each hole absorbed a tear)
 * And rounded (where the assembly laughed).

Did all our laughter muffle pain,
 * Our candour simulate pretence?

Fear not. I shall not come again
 * To tease you with indifference.

Yet I may gaze for Oakham spire
 * Where London suns set, watery pale,

And dream, while tides of crimson fire
 * Sweep, smoking, over Catmos vale.

Michaelmas 1921 C. K. S. M.