BROOMSTICK: But to look at ordinary things intensely, is not to see things as they are. However, go on.

BOWL: Here, in another division of her book, is a group of poems in which she studies herself — not the individual Claire Dupray, but the racial Claire —

CAT: Ah! The racial Claire.

BOWL: When you think of what the study of self used to mean, and then read these clear and thoughtful pages —

BROOMSTICK (Impatiently): Read them, read them. Please do.

BOWL: I thought you might like me to explain.

BROOMSTICK: I may, bye and bye; but if these pages are as clear as you say they are, then I am content to have you read them first.

BOWL (Translating à la mode): In the motion of trees, m — m — that is, in the movement of trees, I find my own agitation. If it be morning, the mood of poplars, filled with sunlight, glistening in the dark west-wind, is already my own. If it be noon, the tossing of the elm trees in the golden sky has an identity with my own exulting. And if it be evening, the forms of trees, moving not at all, defining their beauty through the obscure air, m — m — m — These things are atrociously difficult in English. In French, they seem almost pellucid. Let me see: the forms of trees, moving not at all, outlining their beauty across the dim air, or in the midst of the dim air — the forms of trees are the only images in my mind. She means that the images in her mind are of the forms of trees and that there are no other images there.

Cat takes the book from Bowl, turns to the portrait, looks at it, as if impressed, and then returns the book to Bowl, marking his place.

BOWL: Does not such a poem, so young, so communicative, warrant the definition of the poetess made by her portrait? How new she is!

BROOMSTICK (Astonished): New? But read another.

BOWL: One of The Dahlias, this time. Le Bouquet — The Bouquet. She tries to stimulate the sense of color and, therefore, her poem consists of nothing more than the names of colors. You read these rapidly and so produce in the mind a visual impression like that produced by the actual sight of dahlias.

BROOMSTICK: And that is a poem?

CAT (Apprehensively): Read just as rapidly as you can.

BOWL: Are you ready?

CAT: I am.

BROOMSTICK: I am ready.

BOWL: Green, green, green — no doubt, this indicates the stalks — green, green, green, green, green, yellow, green, yellow, green, green, gray, green, yellow, yellow, white, white, white, green —

BROOMSTICK: We ought to be getting to the flowers soon.

BOWL: We’re right in them now. The white, white, white indicates white flowers, white dahlias.

BROOMSTICK: I am sorry. I was thinking of a white holder. I thought we had come up the stalks and were going around the edge of the holder.