Advent
Vocat aestus in umbram
I see a redness suddenly come
And the ship of sunrise burning
To save our honour and a world aflame
And though he strew the grave with gold
Would it have been worth while
Never relaxing into grace
A gold-feathered bird
Of sweet fire sweeps across me, so I drown
Farther and farther, all the birds
And the cries of the ships
But one telling me plain what I escaped
The stream of everything that runs away
The joy of your approach
I add added it to it
Made merry because it is so
You are lifted
I will rise
And time seemed finished ere the ship passed by
Note: “Advent” is a cento. The epigraph translates to “the heat calls into the shade” and comes from Nemesianus by way of Ezra Pound.
