i touch
the
blossom
hallowed,
sired by
the
spring,

to
one day
leese
its
vernal
fleece
of
verdant
and rosy
tones.

i hark
the gay
canticle,
conjured
by
the
winds,

so
splendid
in
form,
i its
parting
will mourn,
when the
winds do
cease
to blow.

i watch
the
placid
heavens,
kissed by
dawn’s
timid
glow,

soon to
retire,
for nigh
are the
showers,
the skies
ember-colored,
the calid
rays of jove.

i smell
the scent
sweetest,
borne of
earth perfumed,

though, i
bid the scent
stay,
in time
‘twill away,
and
its passing
will i
bemoan.

i taste
the fruit
succulent,
plucked of
the berry-laden
boughs,

yes, these
too await
the advent
of fate,
o wretched fate —
life’s and
beauty’s
foe.