Bird Of The Night

O thou pinioned Thought, where wilt thou wing me to-night? Dug from the marl and silt of my soul, Breath of my delicate dreams, Bird with the eyes of the circular fires sucked from the suns we have grazed in our flight, Cleaver of lightnings, warbler in the zenith of my passionate being, Plumed and feathered for thy mystic spiral progressions, Where wilt thou bear me this night?