The Russian grin bellows his condolence
To the family: ah but it’s Kay,
& Ted, & Chis & Anne
Henry thinks of: who eased his fearful way
From here, in here, to there. This wants thought
I won’t make it out

Maybe the source of noble such may come
Clearer to dazzled Henry. It may come
I’d say it will come with pain
In mystery. I’d rather leave it alone
I do leave it alone
And down with the listener

Now he has become, abrupt, an industry
Professional-Friends-Of-Robert-Frost all over
Gap wide their mouths
While the quirky medium of so many truths
Is quiet. Let’s be quiet. Let us listen:
—What for, Mr Bones?
                     —while he begins to have it out with Horace