The garden of desire

by Edna Worthley Underwood

So fiercely black, so cruelly bright it grew.

Gold hair gives back again whatever it takes,

Much shine and shimmer in the sunlight makes;

Your hair for æons has drunk deep the sun;

Slow ages swirl beneath me, one by one;

Unto my heart come thoughts that I fear there,

At sight of the black passion of your hair!

XLVI

When in your hair like this I hide my face

I sense sharp savors of Autumn divine,