I thought I saw that dear grandson of mine
his back against a subway window pane
like a sweet cherub from some sepulcher
divining crystal visions of a future bright.

He who sprang forth amidst redwood trees
whose ruddy nature filled us with their light
and such as yet I pray once more to find
without the seal of pain around his chest.

His eyes were distant and his heart was veiled
under sands of indigo and shining green.
Burnt through with red and held alone to see
once tender delight and endless generosity.

When signs of strength and temperance arose
still as his head leaned there against the glass
stirring, then gone to meet spirits of the night.