My lady's presence makes the roses red,
Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
The lily's leaves, for envy, pale became,
And her white hands in them this envy bred.
The marigold the leaves abroad doth spread,
Because the sun's and her power is the same.
The violet of purple colour came.
Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.
In brief: all...
-
-
His mind of man, a secret makes
I meet him with a start
He carries a circumference
In which I have no part —
Or even if I deem I do
He otherwise may know
Impregnable to inquest
However neighborly — -
It makes no difference abroad —
The Seasons — fit — the same —
The Mornings blossom into Noons —
And split their Pods of Flame —
Wild flowers — kindle in the Woods —
The Brooks slam — all the Day —
No Black bird bates his Banjo —
For passing Calvary —
Auto da Fe — and...Teach Him — When He makes the names —
Such an one — to say —
On his babbling — Berry — lips —
As should sound — to me —
Were my Ear — as near his nest —
As my thought — today —
As should sound —
"Forbid us not" —
Some like "Emily."Water makes many Beds
For those averse to sleep —
Its awful chamber open stands —
Its Curtains blandly sweep —
Abhorrent is the Rest
In undulating Rooms
Whose Amplitude no end invades —
Whose Axis never comes.