The Enlightenment All beauty rests on the immanence of that which learned; All solemnness of rebirth, salvation-in-sight; uninvited, More than liquid color in dusk’s run, illuminating waters spread beyond bound, dually discovered colors mask over-nights, pulled away in woods, slumbered, through rock, dirt, syntax buoyed in the drifted, natural address upon stone—all life, alluring as chances grace might drown.

I melt about me, wide and unsure, shapes defining, revealing, flowering in light! Striking echoes cast long shadows, pulling brightly revealing worlds far, yet faint to arms; Death naively roving the open grounds of feet each daisy tries to feel— as roots bend in sweet wood. A newborn sees the fleeting twilight, for empathy is the deephesis amidst— I shall never die, returning an ancient place!

• Marianne Moore