I. <br /> <br />In all sight touch taste smell <br />I have known you. <br />Bringing me such Utopias. <br /> <br />In all sleep music grinning kiss <br />I have become Ivy, <br />Upon your castle growing ceaselessly against you. <br /> <br />Within all stone I have felt you warm; <br />your parapets bring to me electric morsels of <br />physics and chemistry and forests. <br /> <br />Your pale, singing guardsmen shall give to me consent <br />to linger within your walls which you breathe quietly, <br /> <br />sweetly to be open or closed. <br /> <br /> <br />II. <br /> <br />If in this ever-breathing pulchritude <br />I cease to turn about your sun, <br />This Ivy shall become my sepulcher; <br />(And I should not expect to view your leaves) <br /> <br />If all this and little more be real, <br />(And Lyre Plays Little More than Horn) <br />You and your walls shall close completely; <br /> <br />Squestrating the music I have sewn.<br /><br />Walt Ostrander<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-all-sight-touch-taste-smell-i-have-known-you/
