The burly, hurling world that whirls in zones
Will hammer out tart epitaphiums
To wall up heaven, all its sweetness gone–
And no more candy under the sun!
Albert Herzing
THIS HERMIT LOOK
That squats in the middle of roads,
Or, wretchedly stretching, waiting,
That lies bare, house by house,
Where scabby yards hold frost:
What can we hope for on earth
When earth's own hope is shamed?
Though footprints pick along
Till backyard pumps are mired,
Every morning intrudes
On only more loneliness. Dear,
Take any trampled pool
We know of in vacant lots:
How winter welled with meetings
Has come to look as errant
As
any ugly out
Alongside a mansion- have
We, too, hurried the gate-post?
Is it shame that sweetens
So horribly now our love?
A despair no living nears
Outlasts all our short-cuts
And tells us oh to beware
Fixed emotions in small rooms
-Unless we absolutely
