John Setliffe Bourne
To Make a Thing of Air
The voice said, why do you draw these simple lines,
And to what end? And I replied —
It is the wand of my disposition
From time to time
To try to make a thing of air
That is something more than air,
Some merely mortal carving
Fabricated out of whimsy,
With no more meaning, you might say,
Than a passing cloud on a winter day,
And perhaps dropped in, a jot of thought,
Though surely, really, not a lot — and then
A scar to show some little wear,
Just to prove that we were there.
