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'Perfect Light'

There you are, in all your innocence,
Sitting among your daffodils, as in a picture
Posed as for the title: 'Innocence.'
Perfect light in your face lights it up
Like a daffodil. Like any one of those daffodils
It was to be your only April on earth
Among your daffodils. In your arms,
Like a teddy bear, your new son,
Only a few weeks into his innocence.
Mother and infant, as in the Holy portrait.
And beside you, laughing up at you,
Your daughter, barely two. Like a daffodil
You turn your face down to her, saying something.
Your words were lost in the camera. And the knowledge
Inside the hill on which you are sitting,
A moated fort hill, bigger than your house,
Failed to reach the picture. While your next moment,
Coming towards you like an infantryman
Returning slowly out of no-man's-land,
Bowed under something, never reached you -
Simply melted into the perfect light.

-Ted Hughes

Loss only works in a state of transference from one reader to the next.

I read, therefore, I lose?