In Winter In a Garden
In your absence I visited again!
That Last garden and in Winter again.
She was suave, he strong,
Though ‘ere civilly, nevertheless wrong:
Embracing, kissing, in the open ups,
As was, you know!
Wine, served in cups!
The sparrows make it on the twigs of willows,
Standing! Nor any bed neither pillows.
And standing uneasy behind the dead old tree,
Blew of the foggy mount frosty winds free!
Watched stealthily between the leafless boughs of trees,
By the cawing crows, beneath the broken hives of bees.
Sighed in eager, smiled a few,
Ah! I thought of you, Feared and Flew!
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