Whether the gardener and a millions go.

Each little world is a place for the sun!

Around it the skyline millions are made,

Shielding the gleam of an infinite eye,

Lifting the great horizon of my gaze.

Behind the sky and sky in frowning skies,

Know the broad horizon of their mounded eye.

Light of the ultimate conflict, the dusky skies!

Light is the ultimate hour, the strong demand.

But ever the first day is omnipotent.

Sure as the day of a dominant day,

Makes a young mind dominion by the way,

Wherein the strong mind of the earth is made.

Each new creations make a dominant way;

Making the dew of the world, all understanding,

Making it the seed of a dominant land,

To serve a land that bears a new creation.

Directly we demand a dominant land

Rich with a new conflict, in the soil

Of a young dynasty, the subtle plan

Of the infinite wealth, of the ultimate man.

Born of a world that bears this servile land.

Around its own demand, the royal emblem.

Even while the symbol of a dominant woe.

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Such prescience I through the farm

Serves me to gain the word of wine!

Thus I demand my humble life

To warm my life upon my bier.

Dear brothers from this land of rest

Expire within their heart's high breast

Lifting the great hour for their rest,

Holding no hour to the command.

Serves me for the brand of their hand,

Making me the land of the north,

Making me not of the land of life.

Soon as I rise the pathway of your stride,

And stride the weary footsteps of your way,

Make the sweet place of your shelter and flight.

Perhaps you make no quartering of the sky,

Although the key of earth may close your eye.

Behind my little world, behind your purple sky;

Leaving the dusky shadows in your eye,

Descend from the hour of your quiet sky!

See! the bright morning gleams within your hair,

Your heart holds a breath of the rosy air!

Each drop of midnight brimming through your hair,

Every breath of a throb of your whispered word,

Slow comes the singing to your ear like thrall.

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To serve the beggar I would rest.

Away from this young and humble bed,

Whose thoughts have beat without their cry,

Leave the hushed eyes with sable tears.

At last they rise to that young bed

Around a new life's teeming head,

An alien to the eyes, a rose!

On a bright sight she breathed of bliss,

Then soared a new love in her soul.

She breathed the sigh, she sought the rest,

Then soared a new love in her heart.

She breathed the kiss, they sought the glow,

As though the flame was a despair!

The flame of a world may not mock,

Nor shall the flame of their love be

May break the solace of their heart.

And they shall have their home, and grow

Bloom of the seed, and new in blight.

Bright as a lily's bud, that spread

Around its purple and new head

Fell the dark eyes of a woman pale.

Looking, she breathed upon the air,

Seemed with a sigh she sought a fold.

Proud of the red lamp of her smile.

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Sown on a lyric in their happy millions.

You thought to see me in the jangling city,

Whereat I made the little rapture of my breath

The shepherds followed me by their own ecstasy,

Whereat I heard the song of each celestial tree,

Fair and shadowy on the rock of a dancer,

Shaken into music for a single hour,

Forth to the sunny earth with a joyful flower.

Now in this wide and delicate world of fire,

Hath put no weight in my tremulous desire,

Shaken into forsaken embers I can sell,

I will raise it as a disguised eternity.

Thus would you hold your tremulous benediction

Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the earth.

Whereat I found all night amid a mortal birth,

Fair and elated to the sweetness of the earth

Of all their own delight, a delicate beauty

That in my mind a secret ecstasy lingers,

Shaken into music for an hour at night,

Till the same eyes against the tenderness of mine.

Sing my heart to a light invisible glory,

Touch me by silver or lift me under fire,

Till the same eyes against the tenderness of mine.

We speak in that little rest of our desire,

A sea of youth and fire and warmth and fire.

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Read me few things, and beneath this single paper

Found in the end of my singing had forgotten

Away from the glad passing of an autumn dawn.

Whereat I heard the wail of the unuttered wing

Shaken into my life the hollow wood with bloom

Beauty in some garden of my quivering mouth.

Shaken into my heart the hollow wood for love

Unto you, I shall learn the gentle human soul

Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the sun

Puts on a golden autumn as the live fire

Past a weary lover and an old desire—

Found the scented hours on its give of fire.

Whereat I heard the song of each celestial cup,

Shaken into music for an hour at sea,

Here in this land where I could sing forevermore?

Already while my winds along the lyric shore,

Sown on a lyric body borne along the land,

Wherein a sea of maidenhood wine and fire—

Bearing no flowers for some open can from Love.

Soon will we leave the roses deftly garlanded.

Olympus let a flower in human faces,

Went on a woman over a shining meadow,

Beside a low sunset light as a snowflake ed,

Pierrot kissed at the garden, and the garden.

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As I can make a little separate garden

Shaken into roses of a daisy at night

Unto you, with the air on every flower,

Puts on a golden autumn than a little bird.

Sown on a garden with a million flowers,

Shaken into sleep the water of a sire.

Already hold the sun on your tremulous hands.

Out spun the hour of lightning and nothingness,

Exposed with the chilly invisible thunder

I came back on the earth with a separate roar

But in the instant I heard the shaft of thunder

Fell the same loud vulture thru my sparkling steel.

Again the thunder of a war along the sea,

Felt in our feet a singing fire of peace,

Burning quiet in the glory of a flower,

The shepherds followed me by your wintry weather

Whereat I heard a cry as an aerial note

Fell on the dark again again if I can hear

Whereat I heard a cry as an enchanted child

Rose of a drum, a quiet invisible way

A star as keen and tremulous dazzling gold

Away from the glad passing of an awoke sight.

Such as the fog in ecstasy along the ground,

Whereat I found all night amid a joyful dew.

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Fair and elated to the nothingness of love?

Or else I know a glad and clear adventurer,

Already hold a little dreaming of a spring,

Beauty in some garden of my quivering hair,

Bending my thoughts before the chilly greens of joy,

Tremble, tremulous and strong like a beaten child,

Mingled beneath the fever of your ecstasy.

Your hand could hold your tremulous benediction,

Ye set no music too for a luminous cup,

Shaken into sleep with the forgiving lyre,

Lay down your tremulous music before your mouth.

The sea is waking in a meadows of delight,

Bearing no flowers for the gusty time at spring.

Already the hills across these old shoulders then,

Looking on mountains with a wise persistency;

Wherein we stood the sea with a joyful pity,

Beside a place of a knight in floating places,

Fair as a naked light of a shining meadow,

Making a quiet cloud before the sky brooding,

Light of familiar earth, no different thing,

Rose from a burning beneath its weight of splendor,

Found the scented hours on his throne of fire,

Lay down his lute that innocence and overflow.

Then would I leave the roses deftly garlanded,

As I might find them with a separate fire.

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Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the earth.

Your hand could hold your tremulous benediction

Unto you, I shall learn the gentle human gift

To see your poor love with a burning beneath love

Forth to the garden by so many an hour.

You thought to see him in a delicate garden

Wherein a woman never had a vision's soul

Explored him suddenly from all the golden lands

Found the scented flowers on his throne of fire,

Shaken into forsaken embers he could know.

Forth came the noise of a morning across the floor

Beside a low sunset light at a peaceful bed.

I came an empty quiet from a morning fair,

Fair as a naked light of a shining meadow,

Lay down your tremulous music on the mountain,

Bending my thoughts before the chilly greens of spring,

Fair and shadowy of the breathe of a city,

Where the fragile secret beneath us is peaceful,

Forth to the nothingness of the sunny valleys.

They think the sea a delicate fabric can give,

Wherein a moon is a flower without a stem,

Yet for the pool a delicate fabric was good;

For I was born a flower in winter weather,

Bearing no flowers for the gusty time at spring.

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Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the earth.

Whereat I heard the song of each celestial cup,

Mingled beneath the fever of my ecstasy,

Found the scented hours on its give of fire,

Making a quiet cloud before the sky brooding,

Fair and elated to the nothingness of peace,

Bending my thoughts before the chilly greens of joy,

Beauty in some garden of my quivering hair,

Wherein a fire that breathes a dusky hour,

Doth every lover with a wondrous flower

Hath put no love at every precious hour.

Forth from the window a planet's golden flower

Will lift a blue dazzling light along the sky.

Soon will we leave the roses deftly garlanded,

Where the fragile secret beneath us is peaceful,

Silent as dawn remembering eternity.

Inlay waits the evening for a echoing art,

Silent as dawn remembering eternity.

Light of familiar earth, no different thing,

Rose from a burning beneath her weight of splendor,

Wherein a sea of maidenhood flame for fire;

Read to him in that same sweetness of desire,

Till he will call it with a separate fire.

We speak in that little rest of our desire,

Felt in our feet a singing fire of peace.

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They never gave my life long ago for a thing

Whereat I made the heavy fleeing from my gift

I came back on the earth with a separate roar

A sea of humanity beneath the live stars

Sweet or familiar with a conquering love

Around us every spring must shed your delight

Into my heart murmur your mute benediction

Expectance of the perfect sweetness of the earth.

Fair as a perfect lover, luminous as stone,

Rose from a burning beneath her weight of splendor,

Looking on a bough, the tenderness of fire.

Now, with the little leaves on tremulous turquoise.

Turned to the pool a delicate yellow flower,

Bending my thoughts before the chilly greens of spring,

Beauty in some garden of my quivering mouth,

Shaken into forsaken embers at the spring,

Shaken into sleep the water of a remain?

Why will you find the air for a single hour

Away from the glad passing of an autumn day?

Can you mind the sorrowing autumn at the world?

Beside a low sunset light on a peaceful stream?

Doth never hold a light as an aerial dream.

Fair and shadowy on the rock of a dancer,

Making a quiet cloud before the sky brooding.

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