He smiled,
And the lines on his face were dug anew
About his mouth,
To the girl with lines around her eyes.

She shut them tight
And thought of worlds of sun and stars
Where men flew and birds watched in envy
She was watched by the man with lines on his brow

For he frowned
Head of liquid knowledge hung
Heavily over the page
And the lines of his thought marked deeper

A joke, a dream, a book
All this and more to these different ones
Many more with lines from all their lives of spleandour or squalour
I thought of them and the lines wrote themselves

Deep in thoughtful ink.