Aldwych Theatre, London, 1962
Cordelia dead, the King dead – oh, and Edmund.
His brother obeys the weight of the sad time:
He hoists the body and – houselights coming on –
Drags it upstage and off; at which time we,
As much as they, exit to numbed applause.
Afterwards, from the top deck of a bus,
I looked down at the great theatre of the world
With its forked animals
Acting and suffering, meeting and missing each other
Down there outside and, inside, in my thought.