57346: Significance

The cunning moment curves its claws
Round the body of our curious wish,
But push a shoulder through its straitened
laws---
Then are you hooked to wriggle like a fish.
Lean in high middle 'twixt two tapering points,
Yet rocks and undulations control
The agile brain, the limber joints
The sinews of the soul.
Chaos that coincides, form that refutes all
sway,
Shapes to the eye quite other to the touch,
All twisted things continue to our clay
Like added limbs and hair dispreaded over-
much.
And after it draws in its claws
The rocks and unquiet sink to a flat ground.
Then follow desert hours, the vacuous pause
Till some mad indignation unleashes the hound.
And those flat hours and dead unseeing things
Cower and crowd and burrow for us to use,
Where sundry gapings spurn and preparing
wings---
And O! our hands would use all ere we lose.