Release

How may we be released from memories?
One dreads each green renewal of the grain,
Reviving ancient life. If but the brain
Might be made clean of last year's withered lies,
Blown like brown leaves across the April skies
In hateful resurrection, and retain
Only the springs of promise, fine and sane,
And a kind, leading hand to make us wise.

If with the running sap a royal birth
Each year might be accomplished, strong and free
With the sweet prescience of virginity,
Then were we true inheritors of earth,
And the large lonely stars no more should see
The age worn phoenix-lives that make our dearth.