The in and out of it

 

    If man is irredeemably destined
    To sin the same sins age after age,
    And if there is no progress, that
    Concept being abandoned after
    The Great War, is there at least
    A happy isle, some place in
    Which one drinks and drowses

    And dreams some glorious dream?
    Or if not, then some duty that brings
    A comforting satisfaction?  And if
    That satisfaction lasts at least
    A day, may we wake the next
    Having dreamed of someone
    Who entered into our seeking,

    Our walking on hills with
    Her into pathways as
    Long as the dream, and
    Then if I look next and she
    Begins to fade, no longer
    Able to walk or sing, she’ll
    Still believe everything she
    Learned as a child ages ago.