The poem
If a man says half himself in the light, adroit Way a tune shakes into equilibrium, Or approximates to a note that never comes:
Says half himself in the way two pencil-lines Flow to each other and softly separate, In the resolute way plane lifts and leaps from plane:
Who knows what intimacies our eyes may shout, What evident secrets daily foreheads flaunt, What panes of glass conceal our beating hearts?