The force that through the green fuse drives the
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover's
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
