For Poets (bear The Word) Half-poets Even,

The English Have A Scornful Insular Way Of Calling The French Light.

The Large White Owl That With Eye Is Blind, That Hath Sate For Years In The Old Tree Hollow, Is Carried Away In A Gust Of Wind.

And Lilies Are Still Lilies, Pulled By Smutty Hands, Though Spotted From Their White.

Light Tomorrow With Today!

Utterance Is The Evidence Of Foregone Study.