A Softer Silk She Came
A softer silk she came,
with tresses as a willow
weeps long to seeking love;
Her air as stars and moons,
of countenance opulent,
l'amour and debonair;
Whose eyes seek the hidden bloom....
(such goddess of slender strides
and aerie chimes)
She hath not heard of death ----
knows it not,
and only life knows her,
for a softer silk she came
Endeared she whose lips speak as rushing waters
and mellow cinnamon climes,
whose whisper furled Apollo
and all the rhyme he felled;
Whose ear heard never a temptress distant knell,
nor some grim hades from some bitter-wrought hell,
for 'o what a chartered hope,
the lovely of her spell!
Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2014
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