III

Rachel

On the Left are grinning dogs, peering down into a solitude too
deep to fill with roses.
On the Right are sensible sheep, gazing up at a pride where no
dream can grow.
Somewhere in these unending wastes of delirium is a lost child,
speaking of Long Ago in the language of wounds.
Tomorrow, perhaps, he will come to himself in Heaven.
But here Grief turns her silence, neither in this direction, nor in
that, nor for any reason.
And her coldness now is on the earth forever.

- from 'The Massacre of the Innocents' in Auden's For The Time Being