Dry-Point Lyrics
Endlessly, time-honoured irritant,
A bubble is restively forming at your tip.
Burst it as fast as we can –
It will grow again until we begin dying.
Silently it inflates, till we’re enclosed
And forced to start the struggle to get out:
Bestial, intent, real.
The wet spark comes, the bright blown walls collapse,
But what sad scapes we cannot turn from then:
What ashen hills! what salted, shrunken lakes!
How leaden the ring looks,
Birmingham magic all discredited,
And how remote that bare and sunscrubbed room,
https://www.elyricsworld.com/dry-point_lyrics_philip_larkin.html
Intensely far, that padlocked cube of light
We neither define nor prove,
Where you, we dream, obtain no right of entry.
