Wingèd seeds that fly for a thousand years,
Budding and girt round by fire!
Bliss of the half-closed hand, scattering seed!
Sprinkling of glowing grain across the abyss of the cosmos,
The milky ways!
The azure of numberless earths, glinting like spring-tide forget-me-nots
On the shores of a river ecstatic,
That flies in the outstretched embrace
Of thine ocean!
A simmering seething from arctic heights,
The shattered ice with itself transporting,
The crystalline fleet
Of worlds that are dead!
Gull—streams of love!
The Word's sacred harvests!
From the fountain of all the grain
A current of corn-ears!
O'er every place where it fell,
Even within the remotest,
A thousand Julys in the fire!
Spirit-like worlds!
Gardens that float, all a-frenzy with birds,
Dream-ridden earths!
Growths that are sparkling with roses aglow,
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MODERN BOHEMIAN POETRY
