HER hazel eyes with sweetness are abrim,

Like heather honey in an amber jar;

And in the lucent sweetness seems to swim

A dream of passion like a burning star.

Her breasts are like two clusters of white may

In a blue-veinéd alabaster bowl,--

And, shaken by her heart's wild beating, spray

A drench of dew upon my dusty soul.

Her tresses are like flames that flicker and flare

And smoulder in a smift of gossamer spun;

I kindle my dead heart and spirit there

As one might kindle torches at the sun.