Poet’s April

I know that I once heard
A truth so different
That I had no word 
To fold it in with sense

Between two common
Thoughts I saw
My daemon
And another law

I lived under,
And I knew the ruse
When angels surrender
To the flesh they choose

And a Stranger
Shook my tree
To a youngness younger
Than April sets free

In the bright time before
Poetry was accident
I lived. O I should have wooed more
That wonderment!