Rings on your fingers and Bells on your toes

I was going out to meet rain
Meet it, while it fell or while it hung on to the sky
Preparing to drop off, but clinging still

I was going out to meet it
It was waiting for me, around the corner of the desert.

If I happen upon perfect people
It is most probable that I shall not like them
How terribly painful to head out for a silly old evening walk
And chance upon perfect people
No! it is rain I will meet
It is rain that I will meet
and rain that is waiting for me

it is terrible how  unhappy one can be
How one carved face, upturned in queer bewilderment;
Frowning in pained perturbation can make the soul sit and cry

unhappy soul, sad, mournful thing
shall we plant songs at your feet
hang lights in your eyes
light lamps in the windows
and put rings on your fingers
and bells on your toes.
And how strange they shall look!
Like red lilies on your pale, dwindling form!


Bells, bells, bells
Bellowing bells making golden sound
Let unreal shapes rise and haunt my fluid doom,
Let there be light, light, light
And not merry men but sad
Let them all be sad
and listening to the bells,
what could happy men make of golden sound?
Let them be sad, so they sit cross legged and hold queer Laughing
In their queer hands and see its magnificent loveliness
Not as a commonplace thing…not holding it cheap, but seeing it with unused eyes
The ringing thing!
Not littered on the streets, but the secret fruit
Whose dusky shadows glimmer in clandestine trees.