And so his breath was perfume on the air.
The frisking antelope, unwilling, curbs
Abnormal appetite; he wanders there
With mouth all rosy-stained
From cropping purple meads,
As any parrot’s bill
Or pomegranate seeds.
And, as a multitude of dancing stars,
Bright, pearly dew shone tremulous in grass
Of bladed scimitars that threatened wars