Ever an awkward wall-prop fool,
Choked by black bile—who would pause
Notice his need, and, ale-warm, fill
A thirsty soul with her sure gaze?
Choked by black bile—who would pause
Notice his need, and, ale-warm, fill
A thirsty soul with her sure gaze?
Gaze long – turn, go. I have little
To give, love’s seal (one kiss) would split
Your heart, I know, if paid in full
And on this isle’s most lustful lips.
As streams sand stones, high hills root trees,
Or monks count rosaries, I return
In dreams to wise butterfly-ways
Where your love strays – and stays your own.
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