That Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection

Cloud-puffball, torn tufts, tossed pillows / flaunt forth, then chevy on an air-built thoroughfare: heaven-roysterers, in gay-gangs / they throng; they glitter in marches
Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, / wherever an elm arches
Shivelights and shadowtackle in long / lashes lace, lance, and pair
Delightfully the bright wind boisterous / ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare
Of yestertempest's creases; / in pool and rutpeel parches
Squandering ooze to squeezed / dough, crust, dust; stanches, starches
Squadroned masks and manmarks / treadmire toil there
Footfretted in it. Million-fueled, / nature's bonfire burns on
But quench her bonniest, dearest / to her, her clearest-selved spark
Man, how fast his firedint, / his mark on mind, is gone!
Both are in an unfathomable, all is in an enormous dark
Drowned. O pity and indig / nation! Manshape, that shone
Sheer off, disseveral, a star, / death blots black out; nor mark
Is any of him at all so stark
But vastness blurs and time / beats level. Enough! the Resurrection
A heart's-clarion! Away grief's gasping, / joyless days, dejection
Across my foundering deck shone
A beacon, an eternal beam. / Flesh fade, and mortal trash
Fall to the residuary worm; / world's wildfire, leave but ash:
In a flash, at a trumpet crash
I am all at once what Christ is, / since he was what I am, and
This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, / patch, matchwood, immortal diamond
Is immortal diamond