behind this soft eclipse
upon the polar hem
brooks in meadows run
as blind men learn the sun
wait in everlasting robes
around this quiet courtier
bliss is but bliss and breath but breath
life is but life and death but death
on this long storm a rainbow rose
horizons straggled down
has anybody found
Around it’s forehead bound
Some pale reporter from awful doors
Some sailor skirting foreign shores
The gales indeed were done
On whom the summer shone
Obsequious angels wait
Full purple is his state
Her needle would not go
It puzzled me to know
this the signal woe
whose voices trained below
and on the other side
recede the disappointed tide
