What are we going to do about beauty? The love
Of triangles, they said, make it geometric,
Identify the laws whose always faithful mistress is the truth,
Ideal and self-identical, dwelling in the kingdom of beyond
Whose perfect pillars follow from their grounds
And found the architecture in and of eternity
Which populace will be the gods of nature’s
Quelling pace (the Lightning that is Adam’s
Orbit, Motion fleet of foot, Dynamis of a space
Born Greek and bearing Greeks,
And like the Greeks a sculptor of all forms)
So sitting underneath the porch and past portcullis
Of impenetrable perishings her lovers
Wedding hands to harp, whose only perturbations
Are the feel for harmony, the accidents of union
As espoused by trembling lips made firm
And so informed -- so these informers, too,
Might be and be beloved as the gods
And of the gods -- our beautiful gods.
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