Ambergris

AMBERGRIS 13 Never cheeks shall dimple over At the perfume of the clover. Never bosoms bright and round Shall be garlanded and bound With the chain of myrtle, wreathed By the fingers of the maid Each has chosen for a mate, When the west wind lately breathed Murmurs in the wanton glade Of the day that dawneth late In a maiden’s horoscope, Dawning faith and fire and hope On the spring that only knew Flowers and butterflies and dew, Skies and seas and mountains blue, On the spring that wot not of Fruit and falling leaves and love. Never dew-dashed foreheads fair Shall salute the idle air. Never shall we wander deep Where the fronds of fern, asleep, Kiss her rosy feet that pass On the spangled summer grass, Half awake, and drowse again. Never more our feet shall stain Purple with the joyous grape, Whence there rose a fairy shape In the fume and must and juice, Singing lest our eyes escape All his tunic wried and loose With the feet that softly trod In the vat the fairy god. Never more our eyes shall swim Looking for the love of him In the magic moon that bent Over maidens moon-content, When the summer woods were wet With our dewy songs, that set Quivering all seas and snows,