The Changing Light at Sandover

by James Merrill

Up and about for hours—hues, cries, scents—

  Had placed at eye level a single light

  Croissant: the harbor glazed with warm pink light.

  Fire-wisps were weaving a string bag of light

  For sea stones. Their astounding color sense!

  Porphyry, alabaster, chrysolite

  Translucences that go dead in daylight

  Asked only the quick dip in holy water

  For the saint of cell on cell to come alight—

  Illuminated crystals thinking light,

  Refracting it, the gray prismatic fire

  Or yellow-gray of sea’s dilute sapphire…

  Wavelengths daily deeply score the leit-

  Motifs of Loom and Wheel upon this land.

  To those who listen, it’s the Promised Land.

  A little spin today? Dirt roads inland

  Jounce and revolve in a nerve-jangling light,

  Doing the ancient dances of the land

  Where, gnarled as olive trees that shag the land

  With silver, old men—their two-bladed sense

  Of spendthrift poverty, the very land

  Being, if not loaf, tomb—superbly land

  Upright on the downbeat. We who water

  The local wine, which “drinks itself” like water,

  Clap for more, cry out to be this island

  Licked all over by a white, salt fire,

  Be noon’s pulsing ember raked by fire,

  Know nothing, now, but Earth, Air, Water, Fire!

  For once out of the frying pan to land

  Within their timeless, everlasting fire!

  Blood’s least red monocle, O magnifier

  Of the great Eye that sees by its own light

  More pictures in “the world’s enchanted fire”

  Than come and go in any shrewd crossfire

  Upon the page, of syllable and sense,

  We want unwilled excursions and ascents,

  Crave the upward-rippling rungs of fire,

  The outward-rippling rings (enough!) of water…

  (Now some details—how else will this hold water?)

  Our room’s three flights above the whitewashed water-

  front where Pythagoras was born. A fire

  Escape of sky-blue iron leads down to water.

  Yachts creak on mirror berths, and over water

  Voices from Sweden or Somaliland

  Tell how this or that one crossed the water

  To Ephesus, came back with toilet water

  And a two kilo box of Turkish delight

  —Trifles. Yet they shine with such pure light

  In memory, even they, that the eyes water.

  As with the setting sun, or innocence,

  Do things that fade especially make sense?

  Samos. We keep trying to make sense

  Of what we can. Not souls of the first water—

  Although we’ve put on airs, and taken fire—

  We shall be dust of quite another land

  Before the seeds here planted come to light.

  *

  WE’VE FOUND A HOLE IN THE HEDGE! Maria means

  That during these days-off before the middle

  Set of lessons we can please ourselves,

  Talk to friends in the Bureaucracy

  Banned from our class, along with Gabriel’s

  Bat legions, OR TO ANYONE! I stall:

  What in fact is the hedge? A LOWER WALL

  OF CONSCIOUSNESS DJ: No, no, I’m lost…

  OK NOW LISTEN: IN THIS HEAVEN/HELL

  WE ARE BLANKS. IN THESE BLANKS YOU APPEAR

  THANKS TO OUR ‘CONNECTION’ (CUP, BOARD, MIRROR)

  PERFECTLY CLEARLY AS DO THE OTHER DEAD

  WE THINK OF OR WHO THINK OF US. HOWEVER

  SINCE LESSON 1 OUR SCHOOLROOM HAS BECOME

  A (M) CLOSED CIRCUIT NONE MAY PLUG INTO

  WITHOUT CREDENTIALS. IT IS BURKE’S NEW PEERAGE

  AN ISOLATION ENGINEERED BY MICHAEL

  FROM WHICH ALL SANDOVER IS VISIBLE.

  BUT NOW THAT THEY’VE HOOKED UP THE INTERCOM

  (OR MAMAN ONCE TOO OFTEN KICKED THE WALL)

  WHOM SHALL WE CALL? THEY’VE CLUSTERED AT THE HEDGE,

  HL & MD WAVE E BLOWS A KISS

  JM: Or new blood? If Pythagoras

  Were hovering near his birthplace— HERE HE IS

  7154 Pythagoras? He’s quoted

  Mirabell’s numerology for God.

  NUMBER WAS GOD TO US OUR MUSE IN MAGIC

  THE NUMBER SPEAKS & LOGIC O YOUNG MEN

  SETTLES ON EGGS OF NUMBER LIKE A HEN

  So we begin, Sir, dimly to construe

  For all our slowness. Where would it be, this poem,

  Without your guiding light? Measures that you

  Taught your disciples glimmer even now

  Through the dispersing clouds about my brow.

  YOU ARE REPEATING THE OLD RITUAL.

  GIVEN A REWARD THE SCRIBE WOULD CALL

  ‘MATHEMATICIAN, COME, RECEIVE YOUR PART

  FOR YOURS ARE THE TRUE FORMS BEHIND MY ART’

  DJ: You must be horrified by what’s

  Happened to your town—the Swedes, the yachts,

  The apartment houses. YOUNG MAN NEVER BE

  COWED BY THE UPS & DOWNS OF MASONRY.

  NOTHING TRAVELS FASTER WHERE THE GREAT

  TIDES OF COMMERCE OVERWHELM ALIKE

  DREAM & DRECK Where are you now? AT 8

  WHICH ON ITS SIDE STANDS FOR INFINITY,

  THE SUBJECT OF OUR STUDIES DID YOU KNOW

  THAT IT HAS WALLS Go on! But exit P.

  Why so abruptly? I SHD THINK MY DEAR

  IT IS A LECTURE WE ARE MEANT TO HEAR

  FROM OTHER LIPS Well then, how did he look?

  DONNISH BUT STRAPPING QUITE THE STAR ATHLETE

  Perhaps he found us puny. MAMAN TENDS

  TO THINK THAT THE MOT JUSTE MIGHT BE EFFETE

  DJ (crushed): Maria!…As (unfazed) Wystan

  Strikes a bright note on which the session ends:

  A GREEK LADY DRESSED SMARTLY IN WEEDS

  TOLD A TRIO OF LIMP GANYMEDES

  ‘TIME U DROPPED ALL PRETENSE

  & BEGAN TO MAKE SENSE,

  THE SUCCESS LIKE WHICH NOTHING SUCCEEDS!’

  *

  Pythagoras should have seen us yesterday

  Scrambling high above the sea’s blue smudge

  Through the bleached boneyard of Ephesus; returning

  At twilight, thistle-stung, with faces burning

  And JM limping where he missed a step

  On a steep stairlessness, and hurt his knee.

  Now in our shuttered room, while the town sleeps:

  NO SIESTA? READY FOR A TREAT?

  WE’VE BROUGHT PLENORIOS THE ARCHITECT

  OF ARTEMIS’ GREAT TEMPLE— Instead of words,

  Broad “visionary” movements of the cup.

  CUBITS & WIDTHS I’D BETTER PARAPHRASE

  …AH A NICE BIT HE SAYS: I HAD A DREAM

  IN IT THE GODDESS BENDING OVER ME

  SAID ‘MAKE MY GLORY, SUCKLE! HERE & HERE:

  THIS TEAT IS PROPORTION, THAT ONE SPLENDOR.

  I WANT THE MARBLES BARE OF DECORATION

  & NO CLOSED SPACES SHELTER ME IN GRAND

  & SIMPLE BEAUTY & YOU WILL GO TO HEAVEN!’

  I BUILT A WONDER, & AM HERE. Alas,

  The wonder’s gone. No stone remains in place.

  AH BUT THE LEG
END DOES DEAR BOY REMAINS

  ARE GHASTLY. EPHESUS! STREETS SWARMED WITH GHOSTS

  BAZAARS COVERED PALANQUINS CRIES OF VENDORS

  A YOUNG BEAUTY SCREAMING WITH LAUGHTER RAN

  OUT OF THE BATHS ON TRAJAN’S AVENUE

  IT WAS A FEAST DAY U CHOSE WELL & MICHAEL

  RAISING HIS HAND, TIME LIKE A SCUDDING CLOUD

  RACED BACKWARD. I & OUR OWN ARTEMIS

  STROLLED THRU IT ALL ENRAPTURED BY ONE MORE

  GLIMPSE INTO MAN’S ILLUSION OF HIMSELF.

  THANK U FOR EPHESUS! DJ: Were you

  Glimpsed by the ghosts? JOSTLED ENFANT & STEPPED ON!

  THE CROWDS, THE NOISE, SO GREEK! & YET OUR QUIET

  ELEGANCE DID NOT GO UNNOTICED. BLUE

  SPARKLINGS LAPPED THE NEAR EDGE OF THE THEATRE,

  WHARVES WITH PLEASURE RAFTS & THE VAST MARKET’S

  FRAGRANCES & AWNINGS! MEANWHILE THRU

  WHAT WAS REALITY FOR US YOU 2

  CD BE SEEN PEERING AT THE SKELETON

  LIKE MED STUDENTS JM I CRIED WATCH OUT!

  WHAT U DID NOT STEP ON WAS THE VANISHED

  MARBLE TREAD YET DREAMILY YR FOOT

  BORE DOWN EXPECTING IT SO COUNTLESS THINGS

  GONE FROM THE WORLD ENDURE IN ITS (M) WINGS

  In theory, there’s no age or place, Maman,

  You couldn’t visit? NOT IF MICHAEL BUYS

  THE TICKETS What’s our next move? FISHER BOYS?

  Wystan, please. ENFANTS ME FOR A BLACK

  COFFEE BY THE WATER Great, let’s go!

  YR TREAT OUR COINS SADLY OUT OF DATE

  *

  Two Deaths

  In quick succession. First, George Cotzias

  —Distinguished Son of Greece, as headlines read

  Even in sleepy Samos, over columns

  Of testimonials and photographs.

  Flown from New York, his body’s being buried

  This afternoon in Athens, where a tide

  Of wreaths advancing on Necropolis

  Will blanch beneath dramatic nationwide

  Thunder and lightning. But here’s George himself—

  Not at his own funeral? JIMMY DAVE

  I THOUGHT I’D RATHER SIT IT OUT WITH YOU

  BESIDES, MY FUTURE’S SETTLED: I WILL JOIN

  THE ELEMENTAL POWERS WHEN YOUR FRIENDS DO

  They’ve met already. He and Maria SHARED

  AS MOTTO POSO AKOMA, YEARS OF RAYS

  HAVING LEFT MY SOUL LIKE A SWISS CHEESE…

  Alluding to his work on the disease

  That killed him, or to his saved consciousness,

  Her words of welcome half caress, half mock:

  HOIST WITH YR OWN PETARD I SEE, EH DOC?

  Wystan just gapes. MY DEARS IT GIVES ONE PAUSE

  IS THERE NO END TO THE NO ACCIDENT CLAUSE?

  Already George is fully briefed to take

  A schoolroom desk. WE’RE SETTING UP A LAB!

  Already at his fingertips in these

  Few days since dying are the densities

  That took us weeks and weeks with Mirabell

  To get a sense of: ALL COMPATIBLE

  WITH MY RESEARCH INTO THE LIVING CELL.

  BLANK FACTORS (AS MY COLLEAGUES CHOOSE TO CALL THEM)

  VEX THE DRUDGE WHO STOUTLY TURNS HIS BACK

  ON THE IDEA OF A GRAND DESIGN

  —Phrase a bolt of blue fire punctuates—

  YET THESE, I NOW SEE DAZZLED, CUT & SHINE

  STEADY AS LASER WITH A GENIUS FAR

  BEYOND THE DULL TRANSMISSION OF A GENE

  BY EGG & SEMEN More “blanks”? And these are?

  BANKS IN WHICH THE R LAB’S NONGENETIC

  STUFF OF THE SOUL ACCUMULATES. TOO BAD

  HITLER GAVE SUPERMAN SUCH A BAD NAME

  & SUCH A WHITE COMPLEXION All the same,

  George, how much we’d rather have you live

  And framing questions at our table! (Though

  He’s better placed to frame them now, I don’t say—

  Especially if he is of the Five.

  Is he? We’re shy of asking. Yes or no,

  Sooner or later, truth, we trust, will out.

  Meanwhile the main thing’s to get on with it.)

  The storm is passing. TIME FOR MY NEXT SESSION

  IN THE R LAB George, one moment—what about

  Your phoenix? Have you looked into that vision?

  I TRIED TO JIMMY BUT A PEACOCK HERE

  TELLS ME TO WAIT ONE DAY IT WILL BE CLEAR

  *

  The second death. We’re just back from the island—

  Hall strewn with tar-flecked towels, a straw hat, stones

  And suitcase—when Long Distance telephones:

  Robert Morse died in his sleep last night.

  A sense comes late in life of too much death,

  Of standing wordless, with head bowed beneath

  The buffeting of losses which we see

  At once, no matter how reluctantly,

  As gains. Gains to the work. Ill-gotten gains…

  Under the skull-and-crossbones, rigging strains

  Our craft to harbor, and salt lashings plow

  The carved smile of a mermaid on the prow.

  Well, Robert, we’ll make room. Your elegy

  Can go in Mirabell, Book 8, to be

  Written during the hot weeks ahead;

  It’s only fiction, that you’re not yet dead.

  LADS! I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE MOLECULES

  Making the cup move? YES BUT (SIGH) YOUR SCHOOL’S

  DENIED ME Odd. They said you’d fit right in.

  INTO A NEW LIFE Oh? Where? THEY WON’T TELL:

  MY PUNISHMENT FOR HAVING BLUSHED UNSEEN?

  DJ: We saw you, Robert. TRUE AH WELL

  R(E)MORSE IS USELESS & HAS EVER BEEN

  TOO UNJUST MY DEARS I FOR ONE MEAN

  TO PULL STRINGS MADLY MM HAVE U MET

  OUR NEW FRIEND?

  (THIS IS HIM? HMM) (THIS IS SHE?)

  —Turning upon each other’s youthful charm

  The shrewd eye of potential rivalry.

  BEAUTY! comments Wystan. THANK GOD B

  I WAS ITS SLAVE BY FAR THE MEATIER ROLE

  THAN ITS EMBODIMENT They’re not getting on?

  O YES MUCH GIGGLING FROM THE CHINTZ SETTEE

  HE’S NOT HIMSELF YET PAIN & BOREDOM BLUR

  MOST OF US AT FIRST LEAVE HIM TO HER:

  B4 THE FULL MOON SWEEPS US OFF TO 5

  RM WILL COME ALIVE!

  Out they all go,

  But someone— George? The cup comes shyly forward:

  SIRS, GK IN RESEARCH LAB Who is this?

  (Silence.) We know you’re there—who are you? Have we

  Ever spoken before? I MAY NOT, MASTERS

  —Backing out abashed, as if come too soon

  To sweep up after the symposium.

  *

  Two days later MAD ABOUT YR CHUMS

  Says Robert, though the cup moves guardedly.

  We urge him to be frank. WELL MUSCLE BOY

  AS WE NOW CALL PYTHAGORAS (OOPS HERE HE COMES)

  CLEAVES ME OLD JM: This is my fault.

  I’d said upstairs just now, I never felt

  Easy with Mirabell’s master ratio—

  88:12—and fancied P might shed

  A light…WAY OVER ICKLE WOBERT’S HEAD

  YOUNG MEN I DO NOT QUESTION THE R LAB,

  I FIND THEIR TEXTS TOO PUZZLING. THEY REDUCE

  A) FORMULA
S TO WORDS & B) IDEAS

  TO FORMULAS. FOR INSTANCE I SAY ‘SOUL’

  A SIMPLE FORMULA LIKE ALL THAT DEAL

  WITH ENERGY, BUT THAT VAGUE INCREMENT

  OF ‘PSYCHE’ (THOUGH ITSELF REDUCIBLE)

  FALLS INTO NO EASY NUMBER SYSTEM.

  THUS RENDERING MAN’S GAINS & LOSSES, THESE

  CLERKS DISCOUNT THE LOSS OF FACULTIES

  OR GAINS IN WISDOM FOR THEIR CALCULATIONS

  START FROM A TREACHEROUS, LEDAEAN 0.

  12:88, THEN, IS A FAULTY READ-OUT

  DESIGNED TO KEEP US GROPING IN THE DARK.

  I SAY: START SHAKILY, END OFF THE MARK!

  Hard to take in, Sir. Evidently we

  Never sat a lifetime at your knee.

  TOO BAD! AND MUSCLES WD HAVE GIVEN YOU,

  WITTY RM, A DECADE MORE ADIEU

  HAVE WE A SLASH MARK? LET HIM TAKE THAT /

  ENFANTS RM ENCHANTING BRINGS NEW VIE

  TO OUR FRENCH CIRCLE: ‘COMME J’ADORE, MME,

  VOTRE PUR ET IMPUR’ COLETTE: ‘ET MOI

  LE VOTRE!’ HE DID BLUSH Is Wystan with us?

  CLOSETED WITH PLATO HEADS TOGETHER

  OVER THE NEXT 5 LESSONS WE TOO SHALL BE

  5 With George, very tidy. But what’s Wystan

  Doing? Pulling strings behind the scenes?

  JM HAS HE PERHAPS NOT ALWAYS BEEN

  Backstage even with the angels?

  GONE

  Maria? IT’S TOO TARSOME I WON’T PLAY

  SHE SIMPLY DISAPPEARED ON THE WORD ANG

  …Robert? But he’s gone. DJ: Don’t forget

  He has no clearance for these topics yet.

  So here again we are—not quite alone.

  A New Friend

  4170 MAY I, MASTERS?

  Please do. You came the other day—who are you?

  I WAS THE LAST Softly: I HAVE 4 LEGS

  Now this is a surprise. You’re from Atlantis!

  MY GREEN HOMELAND O IS IT STILL

  Green ? I fear not. But its legend is.

  WE RAN O WE RAN! & I WAS SWIFT

  Immortal, too; and lived in starlike cities?

  YES O YES SO YOU HAVE SEEN?

  No, but heard from your old messengers.

  THEY ARE DEATH! Hush. There’s an Atlantis craze

  Sweeping the young people nowadays.