Wade through tepid waters, step in
Yawning sky which, blackly, yearns to yell,
Yet ringing stars in blanket-night, bell:
For roses to bloom, maroon beds in
Shallow pools around my shoe-tips.
Posey smells, in my pocket. Therein
A singing dwarf begs for:
Rainbows in the sallow-night,
Gold-pots, and jingle-jangles
When something, crosses my
Infinite mind.
Lifts the blanket-night,
That starry lie.
Snaps a string from violin:
And, indulgent, cries.
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