It is a noonday in an everyday week.
Outside, a century is ending.
Here your sleep in the first house's ether
Murmurs into an electric ear.
Windows stand wide open to a summer
And the pidgin of one more new age
Ekes its way into our silent rooms.
Now days to come can have their day.
Here we'll live together until later.
Till I fit within you, father in a father.
Till this house sees you rehoused.
Till there it is as if I never was.
Here am I long after noonday of my own day.
I know, your head is dreamblown now.
But hear: in all our rooms there sings some thing
Of every age. Breathe in, breathe with me here.