The Spirit of the Age

I sit here and await your pleasure
O Poetry I await while my pen runs on
The full frenzied measure
My words are sane and sober upon
The page.
Have I been false to the Spirit of the Age?

The roads of childhood that I once
Explored at the blue-and-white flowering
Are closed, and the tents
Of the seraphic tinkers. O devouring
Black rage
Have we been false to the Spirit of the Age?

I sit here and await the Wheel's
Certain turning in a world where
All things come back. Wild reels
The villain and the Heroine - and prayer
O sage
Time is not false to the Spirit of the Age.