Save the world, it's the only planet with owls
Rolled into a silence, the perpetual work
OverThe mist of the glittering edge of night,
Come these soft voices to my English soldiery:
It is thy bow with the ruddy light of brightness
Set on the tired humble cottage of the play,
Ever beside the silent quiet of the west;
Rises like the soft breath of decorated air,
Snapped like a single note of sudden sympathy,
Bending our smile like a wave in the night,
Laid violets on the world like fondling snow,
Both smile and secret nothing in thy sweet youth,
Whether the hand of fire might trod a smile,
Leaving a piteous aged Ram, under a ban,
Clear the thick festal mien, the satisfied sorrow,
Ran through the moonlight with their brown young desire,
For the outside of the Lordship of liberty,
Light on the meditative bending of the year,
Ever at thy door your visible waters meet;
Against her hair, a universal chivalry,
Purer than crystal of with a pardon of light
Sunbeams will resplendent with the sun to forget,
Will shine as the seal upon a sinewy prime,
Even to the mighty sunlit, glad desire.
Turned from her quiet palm, a soft security.
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