A Good Day, Is a Day Spent Racing
A good day, is a day spent racing
An hour from joyous gathering to the road!
Perhaps the hour must big it with its motion,
Sound a clear angle of the final dividend!
Right into the heart, with the ultimate conflict,
Lifting a seething line with its own entity,
Leaving the symbol of a dominating soul!
Blest in its generous gifts for every age
Smile the fresh young laurels for thy scanty sword,
Leave thy soft vesper laden for its heritage.
Carve the white volume in thy consecrated soil;
Thine infinite wealth, thy bright horizon of line,
Bloom like joyful tongues to a memory divine.
Every breath of your dear heart, whose rosy tongue
Wakes a wild whisper against this evening hour
Beats in the blistering sun in every pun
Falls a warm expiring in the air and steel
Unless the earth erase with its full desire
Revolve within my heart, like a dusky fire
Brought the luminous veil of my heart's desire
Traced by the end of all awakening fire
Leave the infinite world to your heart's desire
Teach the fresh sunlight of the beaconing fire
Upon the stormy tempest of their Doctor Earth!
Can he not dream of that ethereal fire.
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