Tulip That's What You Are

 At the birth of the day
 As a babe of the spray
 Like a white star, tangled and far,
 Tulip that's what you are.

 Warm and wise as a mute
 In the thunderbolt suit
 Princely and torn, grasping the horn
 Of the meanads of May.

 Sleepy dreaming of dark
 Silver Satyrs in parks
 Statues that say, worship the day
 For only humans you are.

 Channels churning the grime
 Inky dreams of our time
 Into the Sun, where the white one
 Poems them into a rhyme.

 On a hill the clear shrill
 Made the Titans most ill
 Angels abound, and I kissing the ground
 Thrilled to be around

 Vineyards spangled with love
 For the white dove above
 Green and lean from the waste
 Of the pastures of chaste