“What the disciple is to notice principally are relationships between the church
and the divine: he is to notice that the moon is above the steeple, and tilted; he is to
notice that the lines of the steeple rise up and embrace the moon, that they flank it,
contain it, and guard it; he is to notice that the moon lies in the protecting lines.
He is to notice that while the weight of the edifice presses downward, the jasmine
lightness of the moon remains above. All of this concerns relationships. He is to
notice only to a lesser degree the colors of the scene: the shell-pink of the moon,
the turquoise color of the sky, the way the brown-stone and slate become orange
and dark blue. But the poet points out that, though less important, the colors are
still there to be noticed: “It is true: / in the light colors / of morning / brownstone
and slate / shine orange and dark blue.” What sort of colors is the disciple to no-
tice, if he is to notice them at all? He is to notice the pink of a shell, the blue of a
turquoise, the orange of the sun, and the dark blue of the sky, that is, colors of
things naturally occuring in the real, imperfect world. He is to notice that the colors
of manufactured things—the cut brown-stone and slate building materials—are
transformed in the scene into natural colors.”