I.

In all sight touch taste smell
I have known you.
Bringing me such Utopias.

In all sleep music grinning kiss
I have become Ivy,
Upon your castle growing ceaselessly against you.

Within all stone I have felt you warm;
your parapets bring to me electric morsels of
physics and chemistry and forests.

Your pale, singing guardsmen shall give to me consent
to linger within your walls which you breathe quietly,

sweetly to be open or closed.


II.

If in this ever-breathing pulchritude
I cease to turn about your sun,
This Ivy shall become my sepulcher;
(And I should not expect to view your leaves)

If all this and little more be real,
(And Lyre Plays Little More than Horn)
You and your walls shall close completely;

Squestrating the music I have sewn.

Walt Ostrander

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-all-sight-touch-taste-smell-i-have-known-you/