The Giant Puffball

    From what sad star I know not, but I found
    Myself new-born below the coppice rail,
    No bigger than the dewdrops and as round,
    In a soft sward, no cattle might assail.

    And so I gathered mightiness and grew
    With this one dream kindling in me, that I
    Should never cease from conquering light and dew
    Till my white splendour touched the trembling sky.

    A century of blue and stilly light
    Bowed down before me, the dew came again,
    The moon my sibyl worshipped through the night,
    The sun returned and long abode; but then

    Hoarse drooping darkness hung me with a shroud
    And switched at me with shrivelled leaves in scorn.
    Red morning stole beneath a grinning cloud,
    And suddenly clambering over dike and thorn

    A half-moon host of churls with flags and sticks
    Hallooed and hurtled up the partridge brood,
    And Death clapped hands from all the echoing thicks,
    And trampling envy spied me where I stood;

    Who haled me tired and quaking, hid me by,
    And came again after an age of cold,
    And hung me in the prison-house adry
    From the great crossbeam. Here defiled and old

    I perish through unnumbered hours, I swoon,
    Hacked with harsh knives to staunch a child's torn hand;
    And all my hopes must with my body soon
    Be but as crouching dust and wind-blown sand.

Form: Iambic Pentameter

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