Bliss

the world is my bucket
I shall not wait
or lie down with watchmen
in the still of the night

thou hast put off my sorrow
with angel’s tears
I shall not want
nor make myself petty

in the glittering day
thou hast taken my bowels in hand
I shall not be gladder

nor bend to gender
nor freeze over
my goose is cooked
and things are in order

substantial is the weight of time
on my shoulder
but I looketh not older

I shall lie down in peace
by the turbulent water
my blessings in order
his bliss on my shoulder