And, after that dull masque has changed its guise,
Suppose we make the sun our rendezvous?
Naked and white and beautiful you stand,
Reining your fire-maned coursers with one hand,
And birds are in your laughter as you turn
That gaze of clear perfection to my own,
And meet the petal-kiss that seems to burn,
And makes us less divisible than stone!
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES