Abraham, you conceal more than you reveal.
When Jupiter will reach half of the throne of Glory…
Then the ermine, white against snow, in the teal
Burnished evening, the fox, the beaver,
The deer, will slowly turn beneath
The turning sky. The constellations change,
Justice and kindness in a lavender wreath,
And stones, narrow avenues, the smell
Of the salty sea, the laden porters,
The spices and the silver, the studying
And the winter rains, the steady-spreading waters.