Stand still, and I will read to thee
To fit the naked foot of Poesy
All of which were words, words, words
But in my simple ignorance I suppose
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
From all internal injury exempt
Pulsing with the life of the gods—
Again and again, however we know the landscape of love
One dignity delays for all—
And all the words that I write
These are my starry solitudes
So I take my treasure home
For an Approving God
