Such trees as ships at sea. Still and slow the voyage of the briar. To time in swims as much yellow as a bell singing, ‘My Holly Smells Of Fish Which One The Rarest One My Letters Plain.’ (Song XXV). Clanging with the hens this useless bird is out. There was ruffs and reeves, and velvet runners, and there was swans. It fell in the Ouse with ribbons. Look there are more behind. Their names are Claire and Julie and they too dream of being on thorns. A whistle for each as they fall in and change. Such trees as when the flowers appear before the leaves. I make it up again. The flowers they sell best at sea. Listen…