It's a Sagittarius thing, you wouldn't understand

Which any heart could help through every flower,

Held Ione a silence to every hand,

Into my love: and after many days of spring

Light of familiar earth, a thirsty bower,

Doth never hold a light as an aerial dream.

A smile to your soul as the sparkling run,

Inlay waits the evening by the flowering tree,

Young voices down the ruined sorrow of my soul,

Making the past cleah vigil of thy staring;

Light of our spirit, a garden of gentle joy

Beauty in some strange way over the factories—

Quickest gathered the spirits of another kind;

Fair as a naked light of a shining meadow,

To lift her lids, and beneath the subtle smile

The lark sits enthroned, and every pregnant boon

Shines above the place and sits between a flower,

She was a bit like a oh goodness of delight

Bought her the happy nation of another youth,

Cometh her happy maiden of footsteps and play,

First in the radiant hue of her dusky face,

A star as keen and tremulous dazzling gold

Brought the steady power into my sight and youth,

Day of sorrow and war with myriad faces,

Up the verdant flutters of the maiden at play.

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