For each ecstatic instant

Establish March, the Floods escort,And usher Liberty.The pleasures of the Wind are broad,To dwell Extent among,Remain, or wander,Speculate, or Forests entertain.The kinsmen of the Wind are PeaksAzof – the Equinox,Also with Bird and AsteroidA bowing intercourse.The limitations of the WindDo he exist, or die,Too wise he seems for Wakelessness,However, know not i.

And walk steady, away,Requires Energy—possibly Agony—‘Tis the Scarlet wayTrodden with straight renunciationBy the Son of God—Later, his faint ConfederatesJustify the Road—Flavors of that old Crucifixion—Filaments of Bloom, Pontius Pilate sowed—Strong Clusters, from Barabbas’ Tomb—Sacrament, Saints partook before us—Patent, every drop,With the Brand of the Gentile DrinkerWho indorsed the Cup—

Me for showingIllegitimate—Would a Smile’s minute bestowingToo exorbitantTo the LadyWith the GuineaLook—if She should knowCrumb of MineA Robin’s LarderWould suffice to stow—

Or Bees, at Christmas show—So fairy—so fictitiousThe individuals doRepealed from observation—A Party that we knew—More distant in an instantThan Dawn in Timbuctoo.

Sunrise—Hast thou a Flag for me?At Midnight, I am but a Maid,How short it takes to make a Bride—Then—Midnight, I have passed from theeUnto the East, and Victory—Midnight—Good Night! I hear them call,The Angels bustle in the Hall—Softly my Future climbs the Stair,I fumble at my Childhood’s prayerSo soon to be a Child no more—Eternity,…

When it began, or if there wereA day when it was not.It has no future but itself,Its infinite realms containIts past, enlightened to perceiveNew periods of pain.