UNTITLED

See! the gold sun has risen,

(Ah God! how very fair)

Too soon he has broken from prison –

Ah Sweet! it is only my hair.

Nay, for I see the snow-white day

Come from his rosy bower,

And I know that the night has fled away,

Ah Sweet! ‘tis my breast flower.

Nay, but the night has surely fled,

For crimson grows the south,

And the gates of dawn are opening red,

Ah Sweet, it is only my mouth.

Then why do I see the sky so blue,

Flecked where the linnet flies,

Ah love lie nearer, and tell me true

Is it only the light in thine eyes?

Nay but the sun doth o’er us pass

Turning my blood to wine,

As we lie by a stream and the warm soft grass

Ah Sweet! ‘tis my body and thine.