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Black Marigolds

9781465578907
9 pages
Library of Alexandria
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Overview
My thought is all of this gold-tinted king's daughter With garlands tissue and golden buds, Smoke tangles of her hair, and sleeping or waking Feet trembling in love, full of pale languor; My thought is clinging as to a lost learning Slipped down out of the minds of men, Labouring to bring her back into my soul. If I see in my soul the citron-breasted fair one Still gold-tinted, her face like our night stars, Drawing unto her; her body beaten about with flame, Wounded by the flaring spear of love, My first of all by reason of her fresh years, Then is my heart buried alive in snow. If my girl with lotus eyes came to me again Weary with the dear weight of young love, Again I would give her to these starved twins of arms And from her mouth drink down the heavy wine, As a reeling pirate bee in fluttered ease Steals up the honey from the nenuphar. I bring her back, ah, wearied out with love So that her slim feet could not bear her up; Curved falls of her hair down on her white cheeks; In the confusion of her coloured vests Speaking that guarded giving up, and her scented arms Lay like cool bindweed over against my neck. I bring her back to me in her quick shame, Hiding her bright face at the point of day; Making her grave eyes move in watered stars, For love's great sleeplessness wandering all night, Seeming to sail gently, as that pink bird, Down the water of love in a harvest of lotus.

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