Beneath Noon

Our shadow dying with the day
to waken alone with death, now come
I would follow to the brink
oh, were I deluded to-morrow
speeded by the bells that sang

The moon had not forsaken
a fool at my garden in winter
listening to the birds of night
when I never sit, dancing
on the edge of the light

In the wake of thyme and sweet lime
when my hope lay with you at eve
and you did attend to my cold wars
and sang to my bosom
of frozen river and silent stars

we wept blood, dewy envy of Spring
we bleed envy to weep no more