Go gather by the humming sea Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell, And to its lips thy story tell, And they thy comforters will be, Rewording in melodious guile Thy fretful words a little while, Till they shall singing fade in ruth And die a pearly brotherhood W.B. Yeats ...... Male as I am, my place, perhaps, is to sit down in a mysterious presence, leaving the vocabularies to toil, the machine to eviscerate its resources; learning we are here not necessarily to read on , but to explore with blind fingers the word in the cold, until the snow turns to feathers and somewhere far down we come upon warmth and a heart beating. R.S. Thomas