whatever's merely wilful,
and not miraculous
(be never it so skilful)
must wither fail and cease
--- but better than to grow
beauty knows no

their goal (in calm and fury:
through joy and anguish) who've
made her, outglory glory
the little while they live ---
unless by your thinking
forever's long

let beauty touch a blunder
(called life) we die to breahte,
itself becomes her wonder
--- and wonderful is death;
but more, the older he's
the younger she's

home, james