That bell upon the half hour,
Rings once my half-made hour,
Half made and troubled gone;
Half dealt with anything done.
My mind draws me elsewhere,
How could I in land afar,
Where upon my father’s story star,
Believe that fair sight could rise;
In a sight of another’s fair eyes.
Our rendezvous was Richmond station, my hosts to be for the coming months were lining up the stars…
I had my dreamland in those young years,
I danced and played and made no demand on my peers,
Then, time had golden cusps unfolded through memory
I remember’d him a towering god,
In his arms bundled,
Raised heavenward on soft clouds I awed,
The fall I had not stumbled.
And when I picked my feet