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College of cocktails, a few gentlemen,
Of whippersnappers and certain serious boys,
Who better discriminates than I your noise
From the lemon song and black light assertion
Of the academics of eternity?...  Your fen—
Yet it's your fen yields this perfume I poise
Full against Helen, and Isotta: toys
To time's late action in this girl. Again
As first when I sat down amongst your trees
I respect you and am moved by you! Hér you
Taught not, nor could, but comrades of hers you have,
She sleeps, she rouses, near you, near she frees
Each morning her strange eyes, eyes that grey blue
Not blue... for your incurable sins some salve.


Submitted by Holt

Added: 1 Mar 2004 | Last Read: 15 Oct 2008 11:09 PM | Viewed: 1490 times

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