|Hanri Rousseau, "Le Reve," detail|
There are moments in every love perhaps,
But certainly in my love of you
When I look in my love's eyes and know
With a heart-stopping blow as from tubas on parade
That I am married to a kind of perfection.
And I am owned by what I once imagined I possessed,
And I would die to be your sycophant down shivering gates of dawn
To a still remembered garden
Where we walk hand in hand, adamant-naked,
I see it when your eyes grow tender wild
And your smile sideways slow
And your movements dancing calm
And your voice pitches low
And I feel rippling water in my soul, dancing soul
Springing four ways to the winds in every joy.
Something deep, fostering orchards;
Feeding placid lions with eyes too wide for tears.
-- Stephen K. Roney