BROKEN CLAVECIN
for every windי’s emotionless blast
Brings shreds of feathers with their dance of loss
Rotating leaves of faded rainbow-trees
And bitter tide of petals outcast
The eye undates the images it sees:
The clouds overgrown with melted moss
The shadows cleft and soaking in the sun
The palms of longing fastened to the mast:
This changing chain of shapes and whispers is
As tangible as time that blooms with gloss
Of golden spirals delicately spun
Beyond the brine of its congealing seas:
Both take and choke whatever falls within
The circle of a trice that grows fast
And separates the future from the past
But those still merge: for it can only last
Before the knotty hands of chance begin
To wriggle into heaven and to toss
Another dawn until it is undone
And jingles like a broken clavecin
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