Death danced in timeless bone.
It was intimations of mortality.
Woman had the underlined eye.
Beneath was dumb daffodil bulb
And wind woodshed through it
And laughter was raucous skull.
But to all these calculated bones
We see love and poems clinging
As if the calcium has still a fever
Much after pneumatic bliss goes.
(Reading T.S.Eliot’s poem “Whispers of Immortality”)