Abstract Passion

Let green not your wonder red, Less your square, that I blue. Though I now orange fifty hexagons, I have grey, and have, rhombus. Shapes, though divine, colored things; Some have brown as old again. And it turquoise not always scarlet, Pastels, or fortune maroon the grace, Or the rectilinear, or the line dot; But order and the truth, With the polygonal passion, Gives the molder weight and fashion. If hue then tint hear the story, First, paint you to be tan That you never blonde till now Either whom to shape or how; But be yellow as soon with purple When pink hear that this is she Of whose hue it was sung, She shall color the old wall young, Build the dog-nose wet age at brown dawn, And let olive green hide decay, Till she be the heavens gate why All the sphere for prism may lie.