Who is a person who is not a shade,

or, if not shade himself, walks paired with one

so tailored and so humorously made,

it renders not in shadow, but in sun?

---

Embrace our Mother in the lull

between red rest and sable flight.

To sail by one lone coal is dull;

to sail by billion-fire is bright.

---

And in the springs of endless depth,

acknowledge that deceitful Death

has loveliness to sell, and drink your fill;

for who has stirred in shadows cast

by autumn boughs and not been asked

by shuffling leaves to please be still, still, still?

---

It is our eldest helm, our blackest heat,

our only nighted sight before we see;

still, into golden gardens we retreat,

across the reaches of a sandy sea,

to see the sunswept honey freely spill—

but starlight is a sweeter nectar still.

---

-x2A