715
The World-feels Dusty
When We stop to Die-
We want the Dew-then-
Honors-taste dry-
Flags-vex a Dying face-
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend's Hand-
Cools-like the Rain-
Mine be the Ministry
When they Thirst comes-
And Hybla Balms-
Dews of Thessaly, to fetch-