Category: Poetry
I planted flowers that know the sun, I brought them in from field and stream, I passed not by the smallest one That pleased me with a yellow gleam; Then in a hidden chest I found The marvel of an old brocade-- Strange figures on an azure ground, With threads of crimson overlaid,
One time I felt the sun in all my veins, And bloomed on crystal mornings, flower-wise, And mourned as roses sadden in long rains. What pain is this the summer noon denies?
1. PART II planted flowers that know the sun, I brought them in from field and stream, I passed not by the smallest one That pleased me with a yellow gleam; Then in a hidden chest I foun...
2. PART IIThis weak and silken love that meshes me Break strand from strand, O branches of the hill! Brave wind that whips me breathless, tear me free! The witch’s cobweb clings and shive...