He Thinks of Those Who Have Spoken Ill of His Beloved
July 6, 2023He Reproves The Curlew
July 6, 2023He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty
O CLOUD-PALE eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes,
The poets labouring all their days
To build a perfect beauty in rhyme
Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze
And by the unlabouring brood of the skies:
And therefore my heart will bow, when dew
Is dropping sleep, until God burn time,
Before the unlabouring stars and you.