That maps are of time,
not place, so far as the army
Happens to be concerned - the reason being,
Is one which need not delay us. Again, you
know
There are three kinds of tree, three only,
the fir and the poplar,
And those which have bushy tops to; and lastly
That things only seem to be things.
A barn is not called a barn, to put it more
plainly,
Or a field in the distance, where sheep may
be safely grazing.
You must never be over-sure. You must say,
when reporting:
At five o'clock in the central setor is a
dozen
Of what appear to be animals; whatever you
do,
Don't call the bleeders sheep.
I am sure that's quite clear; and suppose,
for the sake of example,
The one at the end, asleep, endeavors to tell
us
What he sees over there to the west, and how
far away,
After first having come to attention. There
to the west,
On the fields of summer the sun and shadows
bestow
Vestments of purple and gold.
The still white dwellings are like a mirage
in the heat,
And under the swaying elms a man and a woman
Lie gently together. Which is, perhaps, only
to say
That there is a row of houses to the left
of arc,
And that under some poplars a pair of what
appear to be humans
Appear to be loving.
Well that, for an answer, is what we might
rightly call
Moderately satisfactory only, the reason being,
Is that two things have been omitted, and
those are important.
The human beings now: in what direction are
they,
And how far away would you say? And do not
forget
There may be dead ground in between.
There may be dead
ground in between; and I may not have got
The knack of judging a distance; I will only
venture
A guess that perhaps between me and the apparent
lovers,
(Who, incidentally, appear now to have finished,)
At seven o'clock from the houses, is roughly
a distance
Of about one year and a half.