That's the main business of the poem!-to see if you can't make up a language that sets all your selves talking at once-all of them being fair to each other.

Caught Summer is always an imagined time. Time gave it, yes, but time out of any mind. There must be prime In the heart to beget that season, to reach past rain and find Riding the palest days Its perfect blaze.

Teach me, like you, to drink creation whole/ And casting out myself, become a soul.

Happy in all that ragged, loose collapse of water, the fountain, its effortless descent and flatteries of spray.

Whatever pains disease may bring Are but the tangy seasoning To Loves delicious fare.

What's lightly hid is deepest understood.

What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you.