Who says I wrong thee, my half-opened rose? Little he knows of thee or me, or love. - I am so tender of thy fragile youth, Yea, in my hours of wildest ecstasy, Keeping close-bitted each careering sense....
Oh Amber Eyes, oh Golden Eyes! Oh Eyes so softly gay! Wherein swift fancies fall and rise, Grow dark and fade away. Eyes like a little limpid pool That holds a sunset sky,...
The fields are full of Poppies, and the skies are very blue, By the Temple in the coppice, I wait, Beloved, for you. The level land is sunny, and the errant air is gay,...
The daylight is dying, The Flying fox flying, Amber and amethyst burn in the sky. See, the sun throws a late, Lingering, roseate Kiss to the landscape to bid it good-bye. ...