EARLY MORNING As I doze, a cock crows in my skull and a lark lofts singing between my eyes: a building of rooks caws in my hair close to the steeples of my ears: cattle are lowing in my bosom and sheep and lambs bleat in my heart: wagon-wheels rumble in my buttocks and horse-bells jingle in my teeth: a ploughboy’s whistle goes through my spleen and pigs are snorting in my belly: gobble, gobble, gobble! goes my blood and yap, yap, yap! go my lungs. Then something wakes me with a start . . . It is only the stillness of my little room.