Our days rise again
The clock of instance slips forwardWe ascend a time of increase
While the southern globe dims
And as their days fade like spent insight
Our famine of brightness ends
Above the equator
It is a globe of two half's
One rises; one falls
Symmetry in opposition
It is perfection
And we call it a chaos
And if this is chance
I would not wager
Upon its odds
When green flames
Spring out kindling
Thinking it is spring
