High-crested Berthe discerns, with slant, clinched eyes,
Amid the leaves pink faces of the skies;
She locks her plaintive hands Sainte-Margot-wise.
Ysabeau follows last, with languorous pace;
Presses, voluptuous, to her bursting lips.
With backward stoop, a bunch of eglantine.
Courtly ladies through the orchard pass;
Bow low, as in lords' halls; and springtime grass
Tangles a snare to catch the tapering toe.
HEART'S DEMESNE
TO PAUL VERLAINE
Listen, bright lady, thy deep Pansie eyes
Made never answer when my eyes did pray,
Than with those quaintest looks of blank surprise.
But my love longing has devised a way
To mock thy living image, from thy hair
To thy rose toes and keep thee by alway.
My garden's face is oh! so maidly fair,
With limbs all tapering and with hues all fresh;
Thine are the beauties all that flourish there.
Amaranth, fadeless, tells me of thy flesh.
Briar rose knows thy cheek, the Pink thy pout.
Bunched kisses dangle from the Woodbine mesh.
I love to loll, when Daisy stars peep out,
And hear the music of my garden dell,
Hollyhock's laughter and the Sunflowers shout.