The Student of Art (Pupils)

Through the full tunnels which conceive this world

I excavate all forms of my being

And return passive memories to thoughts hurled

Into depths of nothingness which our seeing

Rekindles in the similarity

Of our souls — stemming from the airy boughs,

Whence poets are hanging for clarity,

I rehearse rejoice in the strings of brows

Which rise as Dawn’s peached Sun and leak as yolks,

Spheres swelling and dripping with golden streams

Which gurgle past canals empty of Jokes

Beyond the artificial light which gleams

Within the bower of my child’s purpose,

Faked and coiling over the adult’s dress.

Patch-work and Thatch-work over Grace’s stumps —

A kingdom vibrating on all levels

Yet heard and seen only as vivid lumps,

Earthly mounds which appear by the Devil’s

Nest of liberty — 'each egg laid all hearts' …

We are a composition of beauty,

A highest perfection of all the arts;

What expression has ordained it’s duty?

A Master-piece which masters it’s own piece!

An ever-moulding race which is striding

To itself in a contrived home of peace

Where we all remain and each abiding

By the Universal vision which ties

And strays bows in the re-kindling eyes.

Learn everything in reflecting mirrors,

Mirrors which reflect all there is to learn.