Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Poet

In my eye is held, transfixed to memory,
and made into vision of high inspiration found,
the shape and form of leaf'd trees,
In  the age of   squandering night.

To steal away the ruins of lust,
To find more time than is is want
To steal more than is its needs
until everlost it stand and sit

waiting for the day that comes
waiting for the day that comes