Hunched frozen stone of Thinker weeping tears of green thoughts cast still body reflecting light absorbing emptiness pores of patina in the heavy hand of melancholy closing the song of chirping sparrow Thinker, what do you think of muses gone and spirits dead? weeping to escape its lonely abode of flesh and bone and eye and mouth Oh Poetry, Poetry Peacock! is she forever gone? Then the heart will not stir the hand will not move on empty pages there will be white and nothing more