To me not Mauberley but Cronyn
The religion has been taken down
From his uncomprehending windows
While eternity retains the blue
Glare it always was
Nothing is as nothing does
Here in the age of shocks and bottoms
But tell me sanely melancholy Philip
What you are writing now in heaven
Now that nature cannot stir you
Into leaping quatrains
Nor loneliness unhinge your brain
As it must all of us in time
As window-ward we climb
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