it is at moments after i have dreamed

of the rare entertainment of your eyes,

when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart my heart made wise;

at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile

(it was through tears always)and silence moulds

such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms

are filled with fascination, when my breast

wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep

i watch the roses of the day grow deep.