Should hemlock wine infuse my hoisting flute
Whence gained the measurements of sound-sewn binds,
Mine breath pray wear that reeking poison suit,
Till mount'nous stress befall tall heaven's climb;
Now swirling gales of imprecation sweep
the shedded leaf of troth asunder strewn,
And benediction goblets fracture, keep
not in staid reservoir the fleeing foam
To bide again betwixt that star and soil-
We planted waltz abreast a wrinkled sea,
No curling lip of crest to cast unfurled
the lashing tides' despoiling flush and reel;
If loom of dream entangle labored lungs,
On thou name that breath shall spend, threadbare spun.

11/30/2010

Posted on 11/30/2010
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