We are at the edge of all that and
can reach back to another
matter, only it's not back but
down rather, or in some involved
sense of further off. The virtues
of prudence, the rich arable soil:
but why should ever the whole
mercantile harvest run to form
again? The social cohesion
of towns is our newer ligature,
and the binding, you must see, is
the rule for connection, where we
are licensed to expect. That's
the human city, & we are
now at the edge of it. Which way
are we facing. Burn the great sphere:
count them, days of the week.