Silenus

The sadness is a crystal glass
Of red, or bitter crabs'
Crunch, a nimble punch of poison
Darting to sweeten the limbs
And numb our oblong sense
By chiseling the distance
Into rivulets of thyme, whose flood
Quenches the skin, fiery sap leading
Back to the hour's beginning
And my birth.

Leave me by the spring. Long shade
Is cooling the mountains, musk
Is gathering under the moss, and primrose leaves
Are curling into the cradles of dusk. Let the sun
Blink like a swollen eye, throb vainly, shedding
His violent tears by the sea. From the cliff I observe
Ferruginous vicinities of honey by hedges
Smoldering a faint buzz. Leave me to ponder the rain,
A sweet sickle tickling at my tongue and teeth sharply:
Leave me to lean by the wain under night's compulsion,
Lap my rest.