Merely the look of it, buttercup
at the edge of the “Lawn Falls”
where the water seeps, sweeps
down to the seaside
is enough to carry the viewer
in awe over the edge of reason
to a logic beyond the modest mundane:
the rocks being pitted are jointed
by torrents of balm-like uproar.
Love’s principle’s chaos
is as bound as lurid hurricane’s
seeming disorder in order.
Fall, waters! Fall in disparate cohesion!
Wherever there is a Fan-Fall
there is luxury, calm, the voluptuary
of eddy’s reflective surcease
in the face of passion’s impulse.
The sigh exhortatively exclaims
To The Fan-Falls along the sedge
and Gulf-Stream edging of ferns
and, walking through the Valley
of the Shadow of Wealth’s trees
by the side of a sometime invisible
rim of stairs in lax awe,
everyman and consort are unhalved
made whole in the face of disparate cohesion!