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A Song

I had wanted a quiet testament
And I had wanted, among other things,
A song.
That was to be
Of a like monotony.
(A grace
Simply. Very very quiet.
A murmur of some lost
Thrush, though I have never seen one.

Which was you then. Sitting
And so, at peace, so very much now this same quiet.

A song.

And of you the sign now, surely, of a gross
Perpetuity
(which is not reluctant, or if it is,
It is no longer important.

A song.

Which one sings, if he sings it,
With care.


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Poem A Song - Robert Creeley
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