Do not pull neatly into that good fog,

Do not pull neatly into that good fog,
worn hope should yearn and clutch at close of play;
howl, howl against the fouling of the earth.
Though kind gods at their end know life is real,
Because their bombs had broken no trust they
Do not pull neatly into that good fog,
good gods, the best blast by, crying how fresh
Their sick resolves might have dreamed in a deep dell,
howl, howl against the fouling of the earth.
weird gods who met and dreamed the heart in love,
And learn, too well, they faced it on its way,
Do not pull neatly into that good fog,
mean gods, in pain, who reap with bitter taste
burst faith could flare like anger and be gay,
howl, howl against the fouling of the earth.
And you, my hero, there on the old slope,
curse, aid, me now with your just love, I pray.
Do not pull neatly into that good fog,
howl, howl against the fouling of the earth.

Crunch!