math poem

shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
there by the window in the old house
passing through huddled and ugly walls
i think it just splendid
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
white foam flower, red flame flower
why do
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
if i were very sure
uplifting, as the wind blew
i never knew the earth had so much gold
friend, whose smile has come to be
hang no wreath