Late as last summer
Thou didst say me, love
I choose you, you, only you.
oh the delicate delicate
serpent of your lips
the golden lie bedazzled
me with wish and flash
of joy and I was fool.
I was fool, bemused
bedazed by summer, still
bewitched and wandering
in murmur hush in greenly
sketched-in fields
I was, I was, so sweet
I was, so honied with
your gold of love and love
and still again more love.
Late as last autumn
thou didst say me, dear
my doxy, I choose you and
always you, thou didst pledge
me love and through the redplumed
weeks soberly
I danced upon your words
and garlanded these
tender dangers.
Year curves to ending now
and thou dost say me, wife
I choose another love, and oh
the delicate delicate
serpent of your mouth
stings deep, and bitter
iron cuts and shapes
my death, I was so fool.
