Soul, wilt thou toss again?
By just such a hazard
Hundreds have lost, indeed,
But tens have won an all.
Angels’ breathless ballot
Lingers to record thee;
Imps in eager caucus
Raffle for my soul.
“Imps in eager caucus” and “Angels’ breathless ballot”–I imagine some sort of cosmic craps hall, where it all comes down to one bold toss of the dice. Snake eyes? Box cars? You won’t know until you throw the bones…
This photo is available a greeting card
Low at my problem bending,
Another problem comes –
Larger than mine — Serener –
Involving statelier sums.
Ambition cannot find him.
Affection doesn’t know
How many leagues of nowhere
Lie between them now.
So from the mould
Scarlet and Gold
Many a Bulb will rise –
Hidden away, cunningly, From sagacious eyes.
Some Rainbow — coming from the Fair!
Some Vision of the World Cashmere –
I confidently see!
Or else a Peacock’s purple Train
Feather by feather — on the plain
Fritters itself away!
If pain for peace prepares
Lo, what “Augustan” years
Our feet await!
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June 13, 2007 at 10:09 am
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