To Paul Verlaine

Listen, bright lady, thy deep Pansie eyes Made never answer when my eyes did pray, Than with those quaintest looks of blank surprise.

But my love longing has devised a way To mock thy living image, from thy hair To thy rose toes and keep thee by alway.

My garden's face is oh! so maidly fair, With limbs all tapering and with hues all fresh; Thine are the beauties all that flourish there.

Amaranth, fadeless, tells me of thy flesh. Briar rose knows thy cheek, the Pink thy pout. Bunched kisses dangle from the Woodbine mesh.

I love to loll, when Daisy stars peep out, And hear the music of my garden dell, Hollyhock's laughter and the Sunflowers shout.

And many whisper things I dare not tell.