The glimmer of the limes, sun-heavy, sleeping,

Goes trembling past me up the College wall.

Below, the lawn, in soft blue shade is keeping,

The daisy-froth quiescent, softly in thrall.

Beyond the leaves that overhang the street,

Along the flagged, clean pavement summer-white,

Passes the world with shadows at their feet

Going left and right.

Remote, although I hear the beggar’s cough,

See the woman’s twinkling fingers tend him a coin,

I sit absolved, assured I am better off

Beyond a world I never want to join.