One puts all nature into mourning,
One lights her like a flaring sun —
What whispers ‘Burial’ to the one
Cries to the other, ‘Life and Morning.’

The unknown Hermes who assists
The role of Midas to reverse,
And makes me by a subtle curse
The saddest of all alchemists —

By him, my paradise to hell,
And gold to ****, is changed too well.
The clouds are winding-sheets, and I,


uncover corpses loved of old;
and where the shores celestial die
I carve vast tombs against the sky.