And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke
that slides along the street
Rubbing its back against the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet
the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michaelangelo.


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