Her Garden

When God made thee He planted Eden in thy arms that I should rest this head He planted the noisy streets of ancient Rome. ...and when're I come with rejoicing and find a forbidden hedge of thorns, I weep like the damned in hades. . I survey thy borders on Sundays, Walk miles around on Mondays, Trounce impatience on Tuesdays, and weep at thy two-leaved gate on Wednesdays. I think on thy refreshing Tigris on Thursdays and fancy sighs of thy vegetation on Fridays blowing softly into a lute bitterest dirges on Saturdays. Seasons going in circles and yet am I no where nigh the tree of life which I long to pluck from to live forever in thy arms. Fair woman unfair thou art to this man who would spread not his tentacles where the blooms of other gardens call. Here before your fenced garden I plant my being given to a holy lust of thy fragrance the north-wind steals to my desperate soul till you let me in.