In a host of unbarred waterways
The man bearing scrolls;
These are faces I've seen written into sympathy -
Kingly ships in ecstacy that fill'd their sails with delight.

I printed out the fountainhead received to me in Languid Keys:
A knowledge subtle drawn with sunlight faring well the matchless Seas!

And up through the ductwork feels the bloody door,
Mine if I remain, but horror;
Remain, yes, where body binds the body,
And awake is a lonely room away.

Maybe a soundless rapture that dissolves the form.

And pulsars deep in mourning (The Portrait Of the Music To the Poet).