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Deep in her innocence
     She wore an outline, a part
That did not stop or start
     At the edges of her face
But seethed like the trace
     Of unseen flames between
Here and there, her screen
     Of innocence, for asleep
She seemed as one elsewhere,
     Far from morning time,
Unaware asleep,
     While, like dying incense
Shadows of day fell
     Softly around that smile,
That profile of innocence.

Poem by Richard Lee from As If
1967 by Richard Lee & John Martin
[This book was presented to me on March 22, 1979.]


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