riseth he, from distemp’rate mantle of earth;
long slumbered in crust of binding rime.
he wakes with fury, at once rapturous and weak,
biding his time.
riseth he, asphodel, vernal and lusting, thus
with such passion he unfolds.
with such a bleeding spectrum shineth he,
a body of broken celestia and further ruin’d strata;
riseth he through the wounds of humus, to the lure
of tow’ring laburnum hung heavily with venom.
Riseth He, Asphodel! in darkened gardens
thus he spirals
upward toward his indentured sun
in a path of coal-red asters.
all forget his beauty in the threnody of his breath!
the breadth of his form!
…why then, should we think it queer
that he is heralded by storms?