Lx

I heard the wind, before the morn Stretched gaunt, gray fingers ’thwart my pane, Drive clouds down, a dark dragon train; Its iron visor closed, a horn Of steel from out the north it wound.-- No morn like yesterday’s! whose mouth, A cool carnation, from the south Breathed through a golden reed the sound Of days that drop clear gold upon Cerulean silver floors of dawn.

And all of yesterday is lost And swallowed in to-day’s wild light-- The birth deformed of day and night, The illegitimate, who cost Its mother secret tears and sighs; Unlovely since unloved; and chilled With sorrows and the shame that filled Its parents’ love; which was not wise In passion as the night and day That yestermorn made heaven all ray.