Thursday, March 13, 2008

Saturday Morning

My mind ambled in strange arbors
How faint my heart feels
Here she comes across the trellised walk
Afraid my beloved Circe will glare
Beneath the bowers there’s no place to hide
The yellow bells are too weak to help
I will have to face without looking her in the eye
For discomfited countenance and limpid eyes betray
I have erred but not too much I think
Run away, I could be braver some other day

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