At rest with tomorrow's eyes
had me twined in sweetened brace,
for it thaws the frosty cries
that rolled the feet to catch grace
amongst the spring of the thread;
To strike the most valiant cloud,
the luscious spire teems instead;
An oath to rid smoke and crowd,
least for extreme temperament,
as to clear the lurid noose
of hands in dared sentiment;
I must declare and cut them loose –
with only arms to wrap tight
and not untie amidst night.
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