I, one who never speaks, <br />Listened days in summer trees, <br />Each day a rustling leaf. <br /> <br />Then, in time, my unbelief <br />Grew like my running - <br />My own eyes did not exist, <br />When I struck I never missed. <br /> <br />Noon, felt and far away - <br />My brain is a thousand bees.<br /><br />Yvor Winters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alone-17/
