Ode to Chaucer's Prologue

When spring swirls like sweet liquour in the mouth of the poet,
when the West Wind has taken his Psyche,
then that child of nature, Eros,
is at apparent odds 

with all the saint stands for—

Yet the passion of the folk for April pilgrimage,
that human longing, double-minded, imperfect,
becomes—
within the divine mercy encompassing
warring nature and super-nature—
a fruitful polarity, oppositional unity, 

Beauty.

*indebted to the ideas of Arthur W. Hoffman