To clear the drifts of spring Of our forebear's excrements And bury the subconscious archives Under unaffected flowers Indeed- Our person is a covered entrance to infinity Choked with the tatters of tradition Goddesses and Young Gods Caress the sanctity of Adolescence In the shaft of the sun. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHUT OUT THAT MOON by THOMAS HARDY THE CHILD ALONE: 7. THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON OF THE LAST VERSES IN THE BOOK by EDMUND WALLER OF MAIDENS' PRAISE: AN INVOCATION by SAINT ALDHELM A BURIAL-PLACE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM FIDELIA ARGUING WITH HER SELF ON THE DIFFICULTY FINDING TRUE RELIGION by JANE BARKER THE WOLD WALL by WILLIAM BARNES |