circumstance, the lawsOf biography, chance, physics--The unseasonable soul holds forth,Eager for form as a renownedPedant, the emperor's man of worth,Hereditary arbiter of manners. Soul, one's life is one's enemy.As the small children learn, what happensTakes over, and what you were goes away.They learn it in sardonic softComments of the weather, when it sharpensThe hard surfaces of daylight: lightWinds, vague in direction, like blades Lavishing their brilliant strokesAll over a wrecked house,The nude wallpaper and the bruteIntelligence of the torn pipes.Therefore when you marry or buildPray to be untrue to the plainDominance of your own weather, how it keeps Going even in the woods when notA soul is there, and how it impliesAlways that separate, coldSplendidness, uncouth and unkind--On chilly, unclouded mornings,Torrential sunlight and moist air,Leafage and solid bark breathing the mist.

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