During the father's walking—how he look <br />down by now in soft boards, Henry, pass <br />and what he feel or no, who know?— <br />as during hís broad father's, all the breaks <br />& ill-lucks of a thriving pioneer <br />back to the flying boy in mountain air, <br /> <br />Vermont's child to go out, and while Keats sweat' <br />for hopeless inextricable lust, Henry's fate, <br />and Ethan Allen was a calling man, <br />all through the blind one's dream of the start, <br />when Day was killing Porter and had to part <br />lovers for ever, fancy if you can, <br /> <br />while the cardinals' guile to keep Aeneas out <br />was failing, while in some hearts Chinese doubt <br />inscrutably was growing, toward its end, <br />and a starved lion by a water-hole <br />clouded with gall, while Abelard was whole, <br />these grapes of stone were being proffered, friend.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-6-a-capital-at-wells/
