SUN
a light to cup our evening in
it lifts and sparks a day to break
and drops to where we sit again
What mockery is this to see
the light approach, a glory be
and then, in tantaclysmic glee
sink into night, and then do we!
We raise our heads, to all-aspire
frailest hope by surest fire
weathered hands and wearied eyes
set below the baleful eye!
We graze our heads, we met our means
we trade in sums, and pawn our dreams
upon the cast of this one blight�
beneath unworldly Appetite.
poetry ii. main