The hour of chrysanthemum's arrives And the languorous display of Autumn gold. I have no recollection of past lives But in my body feel the ancient cold Pressing on these brisk and short-lived days. I am still trying under the hammer of God Beneath his fashioned stars and quickened moon To let him mould this dense resistant clod To heightened beauty and the heart attune To bliss and set the aspiring soul ablaze.
Poems Undated (1727)
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