In this dream that dogs me I am part br Of a silent crowd walking under a wall, br Leaving a football match, perhaps, or a pit, br All moving the same way. After a while br A second wall closes on our right, br Pressing us tighter. We are now shut in br Like pigs down a concrete passage. When I lift br My head, I see the walls have killed the sun, br And light is cold. Now a giant whitewashed D br Comes on the second wall, but much too high br For them to recognise: I await the E, br Watch it approach and pass. By now br We have ceased walking and travel br Like water through sewers, steeply, despite br The tread that goes on ringing like an anvil br Under the striding A. I crook br My arm to shield my face, for we must pass br Beneath the huge, decapitated cross, br White on the wall, the T, and I cannot halt br The tread, the beat of it, it is my own heart, br The walls of my room rise, it is still night, br I have woken again before the word was spelt.