Oh, A Day In The City-square, There

I Should Not Dare To Call My Soul My Own.

And Lips Say “god Be Pitiful,” Who Ne'er Said “god Be Praised.”

And Each Man Stands With His Face In The Light. Of His Own Drawn Sword, Ready To Do What A Hero Can.

Nosegays! Leave Them For The Waking, Throw Them Earthward Where They Grew Dim Are Such, Beside The Breaking Amaranths He Looks Unto. Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.

Suddenly, As Rare Things Will, It Vanished.