Say me again words that break

Promises they never make,

Word on the next page, antique word

That deaf in a dream I overheard

In the wind in the elm trees.

I was misshapen when you saw

How to unchange me, by law

Outlaw all I'd been, but was not then.

I remember almost how it began.

I salute a sea-gull. You think sea.

It is wing-bone, and going, and me.

Bone the way you know bone is tired.

Ocean is water, over it the bird.

Sing me again the song that hears

Further music, in its airs

Holiday that comes and goes

Overhead, then near, as blows

The wind in the elm trees.

Tell me the history of space,

How from seas to piers of place

We unbury our selves; how we find

Heavens in caverns of the mind.

What you is this I quarrel with?

Which I the I I make my myth?

Separate and several, I write of

Views, divisions, devices of love.

When I was iron, and could watch

Weeds and mountains, I was a latch

On a board-wide door, or a hinge.

I rusted, but any change is change,

Wind, the wind in the elm trees.

Teach me again how to forget.

I can remember myself even yet:

My streets, names, smells, my eyes

And hours. I remember my lies.

I love you. All the leaves

When they're young are thin knives.

I love ways of telling it more

The more I fond words not said before.

Draw me again that bounding line

Like wire unreeled, an edged design

Determined by the fore-arm stroke,

Then smudged away, all smoke,

Count again for me to the sum

Beyond which nothing is, and come

To nothing again, then one, then two

Again, as I must learn to do.

Punish again for cause or none

The me that you have not yet begun

To waste or wound. I am not brave.

But what you overlook, I save.

Lay stone upon in my name,

Trundled, lifted, till you are lame.

My meaning and your mortar

Sometime a guesser will see our ghost

In the wind in the elm trees.