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It is becoming now to declare my allegiance,To dig some reservoir for my springtime's pain,Bewilderment and pride, before their insurgenceIs all sopped up in this dry regimen.
Laughable dwarfs, you may twirl and tweak my heart,—Have I not fought with Anakim at the crossways?Once I was Cicero, though pedant fateNow bids me learn the grammar of my days.
These, then, have my allegiance; they whose shiningConvicted my false dawn of flagrant night,Yet ushered up the sun, as poets leaningUpon a straw surmise the infinite.
You, first, who ground my lust to love uponYour gritty humorous virginity,Then yielding to its temper suddenlyProved what a Danube can be struck from stone:With you I ran the gauntlet for my prime,Then living in the moment lived for all time.
Next the hawk-faced man, who could praise an appleIn terms of peach and win the argument. Quick
