"Variations on the word-spread sail" (Wallace Stevens)

.. We make, although inside an egg,
Variations on the word-spread sail.
The morning-glories grow in the egg.
It is full of the myrrh and camphor of summer
And Adirondack glittering. The cat hawks it
And the hawk cats it and we say spread sail,
Spread sail, we say spread white, spread way.
The shell is a shore. The egg of the sea
And the egg of the sky are in shells, in walls, in skins
And the egg of the earth lies deep within an egg.
Spread outward. Crack the round dome. Break through.
Have liberty not as the air within a grave
Or down a well. Breathe freedom, oh, my nature,
In the space of horizons that neither love nor hate.

- From “The Things of August,” II (Wallace Stevens)