Placidity and Excitement

If I walk into the day composed and serene,
Like a placid lake from which the vital rivers run,
Like the striking constant self-sustaining sun,
Or the mountaintop where solitude won,
To converge into full-gilt resplendent scene,
Let not the empire of order fall,
By hand of a packed-in, compact ball
Of fever boasting wherewithal
To conclude the the age of unswept green.