Grow Not Then

Has gone or passed this shade of fainted blue?
This circulation of blood not full yet dark blue
Burned and buried long in turn with yearning,
Yet still turning, never getting there

But in a sudden there, there with seconded sight saw
The blue it, which downcast, spelling
An image into ground descended
Sprung out of heart a long-borne love
(Whose colors too few chosen make visible)

With heart and love then dies
A phantom of deluge, hazed and dashing
Arrows at a leaflet, in gesture still tinged with
Coursed events of naked, green, wicked, life

Delight for years of general tries blended blue with sparkles.

Hues of winter, springs of bells, vibrating banishment of the life far too oft not acknowledged and gloomed through a looking glass tormented along a torrent of glue looming in the bite of an irregular fruit whose injury proves ominous save till once who will glimpse the fountain gone?

Grow not then, for it will banish this fountain gone,
As the Evening rises in that twinkling hour, when it became
Backs bouncing in a lake of blue ripples, that reversing motion
Still written in the deep dark glistening blue