Order Again

I return to order as one ailing.

I become the thing I long for and desire.

Iam a momentary order

Speaking harmony before disaster.

It is something to have foresaken faiths.

It is much to see every eye afresh.

It is a kind of resurrection

To have outlived each prejudice.

Now the sun is a misty master,

And the air is a moist forgiveness.

Now I believe I am free

Who wished to believe himself free.

To speak for order in a time of chaos

Is the tough, root rights of man,

And rite of undeniable, tensile strength,

To those who have hidden springs.

Let then a symphony begin,

And subtle sweep, and waiting string,

That the fine harmonies in-ring

And the soul dwell in immaterial things.

And let us be as we were once,

Before experience and time compelled us,

Let us revel in the pure delight

Of the first kingdoms of our sight.

I return to order where I was

Before the necessity of the world

And I dream upon that kingdom

As the drowning see the skies above them.

THE LOST POEM

Buried among papers, among savage years,

Irretrievable, the richest poem was lost.

In desperate and frenzied Saturnalias

He sought it even in redemptive hours.

These hieroglyphs, continuous in the mind,

Were dark clouds of knowing and unknowing.

He searched the books again, prodigal time,