Hymn to Intellectual Beauty

7. The day becomes more solemn and serene

When noon is past: there is a harmony

In autumn, and a lustre in its sky,

Which through the summer is not heard nor seen. 

As if it could not be, as if it had not been. 

Thus let thy power, which like the truth

Of Nature on my passive youth

Descended, to my onward life supply

Its calm,—to one who worships thee, 

And every form containing thee,

Whom, Spirit fair, the spells did bind

To fear himself, and love all humankind. 

(verse 7 of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s Hymn to Intellectual Beauty)

We gaze these years when young

With some angled eye, tipping. 

But see, this exquisite loveliness;

Our spring was a turmoil and summer

A hard sweat heap of exhaustion & strange open torn agonies—
And then comes the Autumn. 

We lie down, where once we ran, 

And the sky opens up above us. 
I will stay here, breathing in, ever so quietly, waiting—

Watching these winds, watching the young

As they run

Waiting—for that is what autumn is

The realization of inevitabilites & a soft, shaky breath in, loving all

This tranquil fired beauty

Before you go. 


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