Came to this ungreen ungrowing ground
Came from his cornfields from his leafy river
From his kingdom of paths and apple groves
And was killed by a spear
Then for a long a time he lay crumpled as linen
Until two soft-voiced servants Sleep and Death
Carried him home again they left him
Folded on the grass and a breeze from heaven
Almost lifted him up almost shook him out
And set him sighing and whispering but no one
Not even a great man not even a son of Zeus
Can buy or steal or borrow back his own last breath
Once he has hissed it out
Through the shutter of his teeth
Like the blue flower of the sea
Being bruised by the wind
Like when the rain-wind
Bullies the warm wind
Battering the great soft sunlit clouds
Deep scoops of wind
Work the sea into a wave
And foam follow wandering gusts
A thousand feet high
Alice Oswald, Memorial, Faber & Faber, 2011
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