122 
AMBERGRIS 
Her secret wonders grow and glow, limned in the 
luminous patine. 
 
Worship, the sculptor’s, clean forgot in worship of her 
body lithe 
And time forgotten with his scythe, and thought, the 
Witenagemot, 
Confused in rapture :  peace is culled a flower from 
the arboreal root, 
The vision dulled, the singer mute, shattered the 
lute, the song annulled.