But she was my lover,
For a moment's time:

Like a dream no other,
In her dreamy eyes.

Her hair so suede brown,
Like sweet chocolate to the air;

Her shirt an lion's gown,
With eyes that cradle everywhere.

Her lips so refined,
As if furnaces her soul from meld:

And remention must her eyes—
Which capture god like citadel.

Oh but when she trots away,
My sadness comes to me,

My heart broken at queens' bay
Where my lover walks away.

Winter fell like a short man's thing—
Too fast and well for us to see:
A gold-ring'd tool that mends the bell
And sets the fall of snowflakes free:

And autumn drained its leaf too quick,
Its tepid branch gives one no fun:
And almost brown the eyes could trick
When stars themselves spill out no sun.

And spring had sprayed such bad delight
In flowers eyes cannot see well,
And plants and trees sit back uptight
While sneezes mark the seasons well:

Now summer's here in aftertaste,
In sweat of bosoms and bricks nigh:
And oozings out of all man's face
That roams this earth thereon by.

Here it is, amidst coward days:
The bleeding yellow bears our life:
And sawn about its yellow face
The putrid oak and yellow sky.

There goes one bird, 'top yellow tree,
He sings his tune of yellow well:
"O' mossy stone, O' mossy leave;
O' marshy pond, O' sun of hell"

And **** controls the centre road;
The geese instill a command high:
And yellow rots the air we blow,
If orange peels had rotten by.

And yellow bends the faces rude
Which chatter in this chatter-box,
And once blue tide that is not blue
Has soured well and wrong enough.

A fire lion lays on the rich hue grass,
Sitting there by the bough of tree:
And sun shine falls for her flaméd tress
And wears each flame on her skin-seam:

While tempted I am to approach this beast,
Who sits there smelting shades o' skin,
The eyes of hers are like the very leaf -
So swift and keen and fell within:

And so I watch from a great distant height,
And so she be a star in grass not red,
With mane that on her lion could light
A spark or flame of emberness.

There goes an ocean road
And none other is there of its kind:
Where systems meet on earth below—
There languids creep on agéd line:

And languids chatter in their fears
Soon random ones would fall away,
To walk this road to distant earth,
To one distant in distant name:

And no great lesson this road will teach
In the deep blue mystic that lead the souls:
On soaken road, these languids creep
In bottom's deep on ocean soil.

Navy-blue skies as ocean deep
Wave o'er us like the canopy tall,
And the little stars that quiet' creep
Giggle softly in autumn fall:

Orange dew-drops glide for the air
As shaken bird-wings and feathers fly:
And moon the woman shines her stare
As clouded figures beset thine eye:

And quiet auras the eyes repeat
Through this mid-night in silent fall,
And as each treetop blows and sweep,
The autumn midnight replies in awe.

Lonely bird, for whom do you wait?
Time has passed and still you sit:
Birdie, have you suffered as late?
You stand alone without a twitch:

The rain still cries this afternoon
Yet still you wet your feet on grass,
Thunderclouds yell at you too
But still you seem so botherless:

All alone by your lonesome self
Without a flock of birds or geese:
Funny duck, awkward bird
I wonder why you sit this eve.