The very balanced way which pans and basins,
Sat on the perfectly placed 'aju',
On the head of Igbo girls my age, sometimes twice, hawking,
The unperturbed reassuring words of a mentor,
...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.