I am sure you never did express your best,
A reveling colt in a thoughtful meadow
Before time, sapped to death and laid to rest,
A spirit bounding, of stoic meed must fate lead to sorrow.
In life, in living, in phlegm and heave,
To break a corpse, to shred a pertinent one
She glides in slither-gown, yet bade not leave,
Watched you wasting, yet, to you, she is none.
Lover of right, in form, in lays,
Of truth and outdoor blithe-cheer sanity
Of casements ope and bright-lit ways,
A moderate vision of tempered humanity.
Sense is enlivened, passage suppressed,
Cascade in blinks, each ravishing beauty
Perfect in grace, subtle-eyed impressed,
The restraint, the poise of poetic duty.
Friend to ages, Monarch of youth,
Hysterical congruous, voluptuous intense
For direction and love, a Greek in truth,
Innocent perusals, inspiring musical sense.
Yearn for Olympian lyre and prophetic zones,
The sign of warm love’s kiss on Psyche’s face
Keep looking, listening for figment of choric moan,
And the Goddess shall your endeavours embrace.
Convey to me through a pacing candour,
Your heroic ascending galloping verse
For a mind to perceive through centuries racing,
All that is apt is in poetic ether to immerse.
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