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.