a speeding carriage climbs through eastern gate
to view far off the tombs past northern wall
white poplar leaves all a rustle
evergreens line the broad ways
below these are men long dead
come through dark to endless dusk
sunken in sleep under Yellow Spring
never waking for a thousand years or forever
yin and yang turn round in ceaseless flow
spans of years like morning dew
men’s lives go fast like stops overnight
old age lacks the fixity of iron or stone
eons on end we saw them off
no saint nor
