The outer world trembled and the inner
World delighted. The words without the tune
Had never any feathers, but they sang, too,
And were the makers of the song they sang,
And of the little bird, and of the strangest,
Tragic-gestured sea, and of the chilly she
Who seemed to be the owner of their voice.
Understand, the next began not with tunes
But with the naming of the expectation
That any tune was a pattern that could
Continue, spero, sparrow. Naming names
First called the tune containing all tomorrow.
Then the outer world trembled and the words
Therefore declared their independence, or
If not independence (as they still needed
You and needed me, even being themselves
You and being themselves me), their potency
Over the nature of things, all unnamed things
Not actually existing, after all, not yet as things.
The outer world trembled when Jack jumped
Out of the box and said, you may believe
In a future because you can speak, because
Speech gave you belief and belief depended
On a confidence that something would always be
Happening. Did I startle you? Only because
I, language, existed to prepare you, to shape
You, to warn you something must come true,
Something new. Only because you knew.
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