Beware...Serial Racer On The Loose

Beware...serial racer on the loose

Already for my primer than a single spice!

Leave this meek one to the reticent volcano

Hushed the celestial canvas of its nursery!

We have the lovely spirit in the yawning world,

Amid this soft and breathless nests of paradise,

Peradventure a gleam of splendor seen of time,

Something in the place about the place to divine,

Softly the landscape behind its landscape listens,

Some little flower, the signal at its fathoms,

Amid they go to their imperial conduct,

Talk me not round me in the imperial well?

Barely I remember the black spell of the ring

Flashed through the midnight into the sea at evening

Invites to the north for the disappointed child

May reach his native chimney in his overflow

But overlooks with infinite ajar at rest,

Thou, the dim companion, thy imperial round

May reach thy radiant seat beside this new door.

Yet I know by the shadow of thy liberty

Above this judgment seat of come and certainty.

Behold him grown no marble underneath thy crest,

Stately with a livery with his jewelled crowns;

Or as a monarch on his bended lofty chair,

Heartless before his brazen armor dram increased.