6 
ROSA COELI 
 
 
By the fritillary-fringéd river, 
Through lotus gardens of the sleepy gods, 
On hills where every timid oread tries 
Blue gentian as disguise 
From holier (though she think profaner) eyes, 
On seas where, it may be, (to even the odds !) 
Each nymph and undine issues from the foam 
Armed with a pearly mirror and with a coral comb 
To tire her beauty, lure me to the lakes 
Of light where strikes the day to hyaline floors 
Whereon blithe fish and emerald water snakes 
Play all the day, and all their innocence adores 
Is some old anchor with its rusty flakes 
Fallen from God knows what forgotten ship. 
No !  not in Fancy’s palace will I play, 
Nor in imagination’s deep will dip 
The timid foot ;  but rather will I strip 
Each rag of thought, and leap 
Into the sunset deep 
Still glowing with the glamour 
Of your life’s blood, and ashen gold 
With floating gossamer your hair, that might enfold 
A giant god, and strangle him anon 
With starry serpents like Laocoon, 
A stoic god that might enamour 
And draw him with its tendrils into time. 
 
VI 
My mouth was wet with the delicious crime 
Of kissing you, one night, when in a vision