Poetry Archives

Between a meadow and a cloud that sped
  In rain and twilight, in desire and fear.
  I heard a secret—hearken in your ear,
‘Behold the daisy has a ring of red.’

That hour, with half of blessing, half of ban,
  A great voice went through heaven, and earth and hell,
  Crying, ‘We are tricked, my great ones, is it well?
Now is the secret stolen by a man.’

Then waxed I like the wind because of this,
  And ran, like gospel and apocalypse,
  From door to door, with new anarchic lips,
Crying the very blasphemy of bliss.

In the last wreck of Nature, dark and dread,
  Shall in eclipse’s hideous hieroglyph,
  One wild form reel on the last rocking cliff,
And shout, ‘The daisy has a ring of red.’