The Sun’s Parade

Blare of cells distracting still
I heed their manufactured will
As mother would a young charade

Eager for the Sun’s Parade
When I on fond arteria wind
And sensory mewl in ribbons bind:
An airy child at absent play

When groves in bud festoon the day
And towers in the noon-light bleach
Interiors in final reach
Their oriels amplify the Call

That day I shall remember All
And sing that Opus incomplete
Still longing yet at once replete