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Let me to the oxygen tents, the hundred tons
of steel-like rain driven like rust
from the skies to glamorise the trees!
The hundred dusts washed to spectacles,
the leaves flying like comets in the light;
a great guidance smashing its images everywhere!
The roofs become refineries of sparkles;
umbrellas filing down like receding peacocks
of rain; and the human form, summer's nuts!
Un-caged birds; and a great magic of blossoms:
a bank whose doors have fallen to the grass!
and everywhere roaming great squads of scents!
After summer rain, feel the expedition! --
the business of gadding about again! |
