if-- 
      mourning’s taking Shakespeare’s form, 
                                   in part,
replacing ev’ry   [didn’t]   with a   [did],
circles having outer w(hole)s to impart,
i am  bic pen  ta me  ter on  a cid

then Death! (as well
             can have His hold on Spring,
for even i ) as in Love as i am
cannot compare with ev’ry living thing
in mothering my wasn’t-ness: O Lamb,

to strike the claim that Man should never bleed
(the diff’rence lying in what is not said),
most unworlding-ly full of all His need—
the ignorance we paint beneath the head.

A stair of words departing: bomb and boom,
unequalled walls of that enormous room.