To rest


Image result for morning dew

Fine and mirthful as he was

To rest I laid him, in the grass

That grew always brightest

And farthest from me

In lathes of cobalt

The clouds fell and he subsided

Pinioned dreams and reproaches

Darkening dark eyes

Of a kind, and all too easy were we

Though I was scarce as solid

As a passing fog, allowing the invention

Of wings and grace and gentle nimbus

Truly, I was never so good withal

And every joy furnished gems of shame

Bedecking the grass that grew

Brightest and farthest from me

 

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