The 1st of March

It is the first of March

I have had my day

in sullen, mottled economy

of mind - nothing do I say

but of auguries untrue

as might spit the embittered sphinx

that Oedipus wrought with the rue

that all chastn'd riddlers do feel

at being sounded like a bell

without a muffle to deaden the peal

So long is wisdom kept

interred in the furnace of our breast

(spewing fallow seedlings

that threaten always to molest

my impatient autonomy)

that I work upon more salient matter,

as would in my hands abide, --

O, careless freedom,

why do you me chide?