Scherzo

The elder’s bridal in July, Bright as a cloud! A ripe blonde girl, Billowing to the ground in foamy petticoats, With breasts full-blown Swelling her bodice. But later When the small black-ruddy berries Tempt the birds to strip the stems, And the leaves begin to yellow and fall off While late summer’s still in its green, Then you look lank and used up, Elder; Your big bones stick out, You’re the kind of woman Wears bleak at forty. I’ll take my constant pleasure In a willow-tree that ripples silver All the summer. And when the winter comes in greasy rags Like a half-naked beggar, Lets out the plaited splendor Of her bright and glancing hair.