As lips and flesh on chilling cheeks are cherried
With the morning's touch,
Although they wrinkle in the twilight's clutch,
So let day fade
And night parade;
So let the sun be buried
But march its fires on the moonlight's crutch;
And if the sun in summer sky burns sere
But in the winter white
Can't but reflect itself in icy light,
Then let it burn
The eyes that spurn
The turning of the year;
Then let its fires singe all ling'ring sight.
As lips and tongues in chilly cheeks defend
Their shape in shallow plots;
Seem capable of speaking as they rot,
So peace is sought
Though war is fought
Not till all battles end;
Not till we cremate those we last forgot;
And if our sons in some strange sinking hour
Find their hunger slain,
But avarice and rivalry remain,
Then let our ashes'
Cinders' flashes
Dilate and devour
That surfeit our expansion sustains.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
As lips and flesh on chilling cheeks are cherried
With the morning's touch,
Although they wrinkle in the twilight's clutch,
So let day fade
And night parade;
So let the sun be buried
But march its fires on the moonlight's crutch;
And if the sun in summer sky burns sere
But in the winter white
Can't but reflect itself in icy light,
Then let it burn
The eyes that spurn
The turning of the year;
Then let its fires singe all ling'ring sight.
As lips and tongues in chilly cheeks defend
Their shape in shallow plots;
Seem capable of speaking as they rot,
So peace is sought
Though war is fought
Not till all battles end;
Not till we cremate those we last forgot;
And if our sons in some strange sinking hour
Find their hunger slain,
But avarice and rivalry remain,
Then let our ashes'
Cinders' flashes
Dilate and devour
That surfeit our expansion sustains.
