And What Were Roses. Perfume?For I Do

and what were roses. Perfume?for i do

forget…or mere Music mounting unsurely

twilight

but here were something more maturely

childish,more beautiful almost than you.

Yet if not flower,tell me softly who

be these haunters of dreams always demurely

halfsmiling from cool faces,moving purely

with muted steps,yet somewhat proudly too—

are they not ladies,ladies of my dreams

justly touching roses their fingers whitely

live by?

or better,

queens,queens laughing lightly

crowned with far colors,

thinking very much

of nothing and whom dawn loves most to touch

wishing by willows,bending upon streams?

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