After the final no there comes a yes / And on that yes the future world depends. - Wallace Stevens

Death is the mother of beauty

We agree in principle. That's clear. But take The opposing law and make a peristyle, And from the peristyle project a masque Beyond the planets. Thus, our bawdiness, Unpurged by epitaph, indulged at last, Is equally converted into palms, Squiggling like saxophones. And palm for palm, Madame, we are where we began.

Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird.