Poems for Monday, April 17
1463
A Route of Evanescence
With a revolving Wheel --
A Resonance of Emerald --
A Rush of Cochineal --
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head --
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy Morning's Ride –
1465
Before you thought of Spring
Except as a Surmise
You see -- God bless his suddenness --
A Fellow in the Skies
Of independent Hues
A little weather worn
Inspiriting habiliments
Of Indigo and Brown --
With specimens of Song
As if for you to choose --
Discretion in the interval
With gay delays he goes
To some superior Tree
Without a single Leaf
And shouts for joy to Nobody
But his seraphic self --
1466
One of the ones that Midas touched
Who failed to touch us all
Was that confiding Prodigal
The reeling Oriole --
So drunk he disavows it
With badinage divine --
So dazzling we mistake him
For an alighting Mine --
A Pleader -- a Dissembler --
An Epicure -- a Thief --
Betimes an Oratorio --
An Ecstasy in chief --
The Jesuit of Orchards
He cheats as he enchants
Of an entire Attar
For his decamping wants --
The splendor of a Burmah
The Meteor of Birds,
Departing like a Pageant
Of Ballads and of Bards --
I never thought that Jason sought
For any Golden Fleece
But then I am a rural man
With thoughts that make for Peace --
But if there were a Jason,
Tradition bear with me
Behold his lost Aggrandizement
Upon the Apple Tree –
A Route of Evanescence
With a revolving Wheel --
A Resonance of Emerald --
A Rush of Cochineal --
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head --
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy Morning's Ride –
1465
Before you thought of Spring
Except as a Surmise
You see -- God bless his suddenness --
A Fellow in the Skies
Of independent Hues
A little weather worn
Inspiriting habiliments
Of Indigo and Brown --
With specimens of Song
As if for you to choose --
Discretion in the interval
With gay delays he goes
To some superior Tree
Without a single Leaf
And shouts for joy to Nobody
But his seraphic self --
1466
One of the ones that Midas touched
Who failed to touch us all
Was that confiding Prodigal
The reeling Oriole --
So drunk he disavows it
With badinage divine --
So dazzling we mistake him
For an alighting Mine --
A Pleader -- a Dissembler --
An Epicure -- a Thief --
Betimes an Oratorio --
An Ecstasy in chief --
The Jesuit of Orchards
He cheats as he enchants
Of an entire Attar
For his decamping wants --
The splendor of a Burmah
The Meteor of Birds,
Departing like a Pageant
Of Ballads and of Bards --
I never thought that Jason sought
For any Golden Fleece
But then I am a rural man
With thoughts that make for Peace --
But if there were a Jason,
Tradition bear with me
Behold his lost Aggrandizement
Upon the Apple Tree –