Holy Spring

Out of a bed of

When that immortal hospital made one more moove to

The curless counted body,

And ruin and his

Over the barbed and shooting sea assumed an

And swept into our wounds and houses,

I climb to greet the war in which I have no heart but

That one dark I owe my light,

Call for confessor and wiser mirror but there is

To glow after the god stoning

And I am struck as lonely as a holy marker by the

Praise that the spring time is

Gabriel and radiant shrubbery as the morning grows

Out of the woebegone

And the multitude's sultry tear turns cool on the weeping wall,

My arising

Sun the father his quiver full of the infants of pure fire,

But blessed be hail and

That uncalm still it is sure alone to stand and

Alone in the husk of man's

And the mother and toppling house of the holy spring,

If only for a last time.