And I have come upon this place <br />By lost ways, by a nod, by words, <br />By faces, by an old man's face <br />At Morlaix lifted to the birds, <br /> <br />By hands upon the tablecloth <br />At Aldebori's, by the thin <br />Child's hands that opened to the moth <br />And let the flutter of the moonlight in, <br /> <br />By hands, by voices, by the voice <br />Of Mrs. Whitman on the stair, <br />By Margaret's 'If we had the choice <br />To choose or not - 'through her thick hair, <br /> <br />By voices, by the creak and fall <br />Of footsteps on the upper floor, <br />By silence waiting in the hall <br />Between the doorbell and the door, <br /> <br />By words, by voices, a lost way - , <br />And here above the chimney stack <br />The unknown constellations sway - <br />And by what way shall I go back?<br /><br />Archibald MacLeish<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/l-an-trentiesme-de-mon-eage/
