BLUE
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HE earth again like a ship steams out of the darksea overThe edge of the blue, and the sun stands up to seeus glideSlowly into another day; slowly the roverVessel of darkness takes the rising tide. I, on the deck, am startled by this dawn confrontingMe who am issued amazed from the darkness,strippedAnd quailing here in the sunshine, delivered fromhauntingThe night unsounded whereon our days are shipped. Feeling myself undawning, the day's light playingupon me,I who am substance of shadow, I all compactOf the stuff of the night, finding myself all wronglyAmong the crowds of things in the sunshine jostledand racked. I with the night on my lips, I sigh with the silenceof death;And what do I care though the very stones shouldcry me unreal, though the cloudsShine in conceit of substance upon me, who am lessthan the rain.Do I not know the darkness within them? Whatare they but shrouds? The clouds go down the sky with a wealthy easeCasting a shadow of scorn upon me for my share indeath; but IHold my own in the midst of them, darkling, defyThe whole of the day to extinguish the shadow I lifton the breeze. Yea, though the very clouds have vantage overme,Enjoying their glancing flight, though my love isdead,I still am not homeless here, I've a tent by dayOf darkness where she sleeps on her perfect bed. And I know the host, the minute sparkling of darknessWhich vibrates untouched and virile through thegrandeur of night,But which, when dawn crows challenge, assaultingthe vivid motesOf living darkness, bursts fretfully, and is bright: Runs like a fretted arc-lamp into light,Stirred by conflict to shining, which elseWere dark and whole with the night. Runs to a fret of speed like a racing wheel,Which else were aslumber along with the wholeOf the dark, swinging rhythmic instead of a-reel. Is chafed to anger, bursts into rage like thunder;Which else were a silent grasp that held theheavensArrested, beating thick with wonder.
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