SONNET 127
Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
Mock on, mock on, 'tis all in vain!
~ William Blake
The book of longing tithes this: Am through my way lost
In the way of true north pursuing obviousness --
Vers la flamme tails astray, each other chases lust
Teaching me loss, more lost, in belov'd helplessness.
Out to get me, come oh year and years, the Two Bears
Voice aurora of honey laced beaming 'twixt the
Midnight sun. Old soul, make it go on forever!
Had I known hope idly circuits still rotundas,
Effortfully in ends of carnations, among
We its orbit, with a million twinkling stars 'round
Least daylight, sounding far lies 'round a million more
Lasting; I, their wager found roulette what's in store --
Hypocrisy charging itself the tired accuse
Dur'ng every dirge it centers self and centers ruse.
