CHAPTER XI

FORGOTTEN WAYS I have forgotten all the ways of sleep, The endless, windless silence of my dream, The milk-white poppy meadows and the stream, The dreaming water soft and still and deep— I have forgotten how that water flows, I have forgotten how the poppy grows, I have forgotten all the ways of sleep. It was on an afternoon, a few days later, that David came into the hall of the Mottisfonts’ house. “Lord save …