A Hinted World

From my people I went
To the life hinted
In primrose and bluebell tent
In the poem sung or printed.

I turned eastward to find
A land ledged
By the god-flame of mind,
To no destiny fledged.

With the spear of a laugh
In my thought,
In my soul the indestructable [sic] stuff - 
A dream that is naught.

I found the god-spewed
Beautiful, hidden - 
In a place evening-lewd - 
Like a white egg in a midden.