What's O'Clock/White Currants
WHITE CURRANTS
Shall I give you white currants? I do not know why, but I have a sudden fancy for this fruit. At the moment, the idea of them cherishes my senses, And they seem more desirable than flawless emeralds. Since I am, in fact, empty-handed, I might have chosen gems out of India, But I choose white currants. Is it because the raucous wind is hurtling round the house-corners? I see it with curled lips and stripped fangs, gaunt with a hunting energy, Come to snout, and nibble, and kill the little crocus roots. Shall we call it white currants? You may consider it as a symbol if you please. You may find them tart, or sweet, or merely agreeable in colour, So long as you accept them, And me.