Fragment

The furl of fresh-leaved dogrose down His cheeks the forth-and-flaunting sun Had swarthed about with lion-brown Before the Spring was done. His locks like all a ravel-rope's-end, With hempen strands in spray - Fallow, foam-fallow, hanks - fall'n off their ranks, Swung down at a disarray. Or like a juicy and jostling shock Of bluebells sheaved in May Or wind-long fleeces on the flock A day off shearing day. Then over his turn'd temples - here - Was a rose, or, failing that, Rough-Robin or five-lipped campion clear For a beauty-bow to his hat, And the sunlight sidled, like dewdrops, like dandled diamonds Through the sieve of the straw of the plait.