Classic Poem

be unto love as rain is unto colour; create
me gradually (or as these emerging now
hills invent the air)
breathe simply my each how
my trembling where my still invisible when. Wait

if I am not heart, because at least I beat
— always think I am gone like a sun which must go
sometimes, to make an earth gladly seem firm for you:
remember (as those pearls more than surround this throat)

I wear your dearest fears beyond their ceaselessness

(nor has a syllable of the heart's eager dim
enormous language loss or gain from blame or praise)
but many a thought shall die which was not born of dream
while wings welcome the year and trees dance (and I guess

though wish and world go down, one poem yet shall swim