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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=367941" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Caedmon</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=367941" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">All others talked as if <br>talk were a dance. <br>Clodhopper I, with clumsy feet <br>would break the gliding ring. <br>Early I learned to <br>hunch myself <br>close by the door: <br>then when the talk began <br>I’d wipe my <br>mouth and wend <br>unnoticed back to the barn <br>to be with the warm beasts, <br>dumb among body sounds <br>of the simple ones. <br>I’d see by a twist <br>of lit rush the motes <br>of gold moving <br>from shadow to shadow <br>slow in the wake <br>of deep untroubled sighs. <br>The cows <br>munched or stirred or were still. I <br>was at home and lonely, <br>both in good measure. Until <br>the sudden angel affrighted me—light effacing <br>my feeble beam, <br>a forest of torches, feathers of flame, sparks upflying: <br>but the cows as before <br>were calm, and nothing was burning, <br>nothing but I, as that hand of fire <br>touched my lips and scorched my tongue <br>and pulled my voice <br>into the ring of the dance.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Denise+Levertov">Denise Levertov</a></strong></div>