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Brodsky 13a Recto

This and the six successive pages of drafts were all written in pencil. It seems plausible that having finished all his experimental versions, Faulkner went back over and selected from each those lines which he then incorporated into the apparently first "complete" pencil draft of the poem. Note that this page contains with two omissions (the word 'real' in line five from the top and the comma following 'rooks' in the fifth line from the bottom) and two minor inclusions (dashes after 'Cigarettes? No?' and 'Last spring') all the lines Faulkner recorded in his 3-page pencil draft (Man Collecting, p. 20) which comprise stanzas 1 and 2.

Also significant is the way Faulkner managed to obscure certain details. Though at this stage he retains reference to 'Blighty' (England) he does dispense with the names and occupations of two of the three personae. This, as well as later decisions to eliminate specific details, helps create a sense of the universal.

We sit, drinking tea
Beneath the lilacs of a summer afternoon
Comfortably, at our ease
['We are in Blighty' del.]

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Page 242
With real, fresh linen napkins on our knees
We are in Blighty
And we sit, we three
In diffident contentedness
Lest we let each other guess
How pleased we are
Together watching the young moon
Lying ['on her ba' del.] shyly on her back, and the first star
There are women here
Smooth shouldered creatures in sheer scarves, that pass
['They pass,' del.] and eye me queerly as they pass
['Whispering across' del.] To me they are but figures ['from' del.] on a masque
One of them, my hostess pauses near
—Are you quite all right, sir? she asks
You are a bit lonely, I fear
Will you have more tea? Cigarettes? No?—
['I thank her, and the other chaps, ['stare about,' del.] waiting for ['them' del.] her to go' del.]
['Waiting for them to go' del.]
['Stare about, waiting for them to go' del.]
I thank her, waiting for them to go
—Who—? Shot down?
Yes, shot down—Last spring—
Poor chap—yes, his mind—
The Doctor says—hoping rest will bring—
Their voices come to us like tangled rooks
Busy with their tea and cigarettes and books
We sit in silent amity
['John the poet, James the ['motor' del.] motor' del.] salesman, and myself
John the poet, talks to James and me