the rose and the brier, the wildwood flower
wreathed in blue violet I have sung by the hour
she said in eherry red
she never lied.
that knights in their sunset colours
she remembered.
was it drear Decmeber then Poe at the windowpanes
detesting the snows
or seaside hearing the chimes end and
Annabel Lee at peace in
the flume of sea spray felt like a
heradling ghost of what may have been.
maytimes I have pressed like flowers
my obstinate hours of dreaming
wanting the may baskets for my own
and to wear pink silk gathered with small rosebuds
to smile an ivory smile
to resemble cameos.
I resembled cameos I know that I did
and kept in lockets all that I could
I sang a heart shaped song
like Blake, at the end
praising the Divine.
pure rose in the eglantine.
mary angela douglas 4 august 2018
wreathed in blue violet I have sung by the hour
she said in eherry red
she never lied.
that knights in their sunset colours
she remembered.
was it drear Decmeber then Poe at the windowpanes
detesting the snows
or seaside hearing the chimes end and
Annabel Lee at peace in
the flume of sea spray felt like a
heradling ghost of what may have been.
maytimes I have pressed like flowers
my obstinate hours of dreaming
wanting the may baskets for my own
and to wear pink silk gathered with small rosebuds
to smile an ivory smile
to resemble cameos.
I resembled cameos I know that I did
and kept in lockets all that I could
I sang a heart shaped song
like Blake, at the end
praising the Divine.
pure rose in the eglantine.
mary angela douglas 4 august 2018
