Authors:
  • The seen and seeing softly mutually strike Their glass barrier that arrests the sight. But the world's being hides in the volcanoes And the foul history pressed into its core; And to myself my being is my childhood And passion and entrails and the roots of senses; I'm pressed into the inside of a mask At the back of love, the back of air, the back of light.

    Stephen Spender (2015). “New Collected Poems of Stephen Spender”, p.189, Faber & Faber