42/I

[1923–1924]

Seated securely on the solid pillar
            Of the verses in which I remain,
I have no fear of the endless future influx
            Of times and oblivion;
For the mind, when it steadfastly sees in itself
            The reflections of the world,
Becomes malleable clay, and it is the world
            That creates art, not the mind.
Just as the external instant engraves its being
            on the photographic plate, and there endures.

163

[21 November 1928]

Fate, deny me anything but the chance to view my fate,
            For, lax stoic that I am,
On the sentence engraved by Destiny I wish
            Simply to enjoy the lettering.