The Words of the Excited Boy

IF trees be women, marry one and die;
If hills be sleepers, wake them where they lie.
Let Nature state your reason.
If God be air, then praise air on your knees:
If Death be midnight, noon is what man sees
Within his seeing season.
If stones be stories, watch them warp as told:
If valleys virgins, note to whom they’re sold
And, too, the price they’re bringing.
If light be history, puzzle out the words:
If we be dust, please take us where the birds
Are seeking food and singing.
— If trees are women, I would have a tree
Break from the ground and leave to comfort me
Upon this April morning.
If hills are sleepers, I would have them rise
And come within the highest range of eyes,
The Seven Sights adorning.
If God is air, I ’ll worship every breath,
Until I’m smothered by the mask of Death
And have no use for praise.
If Death is midnight, I shall make my day
With neither moon nor dark; and in that way
Be my own Lord of Days.
If stones are stories, I shall know them all,
And carry them within the bridal wall
For stairs and braces.
If vales are virgins, I will buy their hearts,
And then release their bodies from the marts,
And send them to their races.
If light is history, I shall change my name
And, as the Prophet, tell from whence we came,
And of our sorrow.
If I am dust, then I shall never change
My form, but lie within my human range
For Earth to borrow.