Afternoon in Summer

I CLOSED the door that day
In the usual way,
And left time at home on the kitchen shelf;
And walked, trailing my August shadow
Along the dusty road to the meadow,
There to lie drowned in summer grass,
And feel the pulse of life in weed
And blade. I felt earth tremble
At the bursting of a seed,
And heard a dried leaf crumble.
“I have not come away
From Time, for this is Time,” I said —
Through vein and stalk and root Time sped.

This was a moment for a voice to speak —
None broke the spell;
A moment for the world to end —
A crow flew laughing down the day;
A moment for a man to rise and say,
“Now will I turn my steps toward heaven — or toward hell!”

Unregenerate,
I let the moment pass,
For who could leave a world like this
For some fascist state
Of total torment, of total bliss,
W hen both are mingled here?
I lay content in summer grass,
And watched the moment disappear.