Should lanterns shine, the holy
face,
Caught in an octagon of
unaccustomed light,
Would wither up, and any boy of
love
Look twice before he fell from
grace.
The features in their private
dark
Are formed of flesh, but let the
false day come
And from her lips the added
pigments fall,
The mummy cloths expose an
ancient breast.
I have been taught to reason by
the heart,
But heart, like head, leads
helplessly;
I have been told to reason by the
pulse,
And, when it quickens, alter the
actions’ pace
Till field and roof lie level and
the same
So fast I move defying time, the
quiet gentleman
Whose beard wags in Egyptian
wind.
I have heard many years of
telling,
And many years should see some
change.
The ball I threw while playing in
the park
Has not yet reached the ground.
