Shedding white rings of tumult, building high
Foretold to other eyes on the same screen;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
Till with food and drink my lean
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?
The moon embrace her shepherd,
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
"Here endeth" much more loudly than I'd meant.
Shedding white rings of tumult, building high
Foretold to other eyes on the same screen;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
Till with food and drink my lean
Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?
The moon embrace her shepherd,
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
"Here endeth" much more loudly than I'd meant.