The force that through the green fuse drives the

flower

Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer.

And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.                  5

The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing

streams

Turns mine to wax.

And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.    10

The hand that whirls the water in the pool

Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind

Hauls my shroud sail.

And I am dumb to tell the hanging man

How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.     ...