ED [Full Poem] [Temp. 0.470]

ED.
The father of the thought of his son,
    The hours of the flowers and the breast
That scants the fiery storms of stone
     To climb their hope her hands once more.
     The bark! the rose is still the winds that rest
         The sky with the fair one
         Of the rest and strength;
         The stars that make the stars that clear:
         The door did well will show
         The moving fancy standing onward,
         The stars that spent the soul of man;
         Still too insulted in the road,
     Where strains are as the dewy horse
         In the blue tree towers,
         And all the spirit starts:
         And when the heaven made heart
         That the sea had been and heard the words.
         And the sun shows,
         Whilst the other storms
         Are on the stages of strength,
         Whilst lips and souls and maids and strength
         And streams and blooming bones and tides.
                   For the dewy fields
                                                                                          with strangers