I saw the dustmen drink the light
And remain dry;
I saw the grey wagon of desiccation,
While the day raced in rivulets all about it,
Crawling along the gutter like a blind dog.
I thought of an endless night, so deep
That it would slake them,
These parched and red-eyed men,
In flooded shafts and cool sky-valleys:
I wanted them to love that blue mind
For all of us, whose claim on it was less.
Then saw how they were decomposed
Into their dust,
The skin losing its touch and the eyes their distance,
So that they hardly sensed
Even the ripples under the girders of the bridge
They crossed at nightfall going home;
And I remembered how our dreams
Can make themselves only
From what we touch when we are wide awake.
I saw the dustmen drinking light
And the grey wagon of desiccation
crawl in the gutter like a blind dog.