Before:
O, vanguard bloom, wilt thou nourish the dew this day?
Thy touch will cleave unto her soul with steadied hands
Each sapphire strand entranced by silver filigree strains
That resound with the descending drops of tenderness.
Sylph ethereal, and sycamore memory ‘neath the keel
Of Sky, sifting Meadow’s veil with every fallen petal.
Emerald prayers concentric with descants and reverie
Intertwine, clasping each fold of the vale, end to end.
Her flora, and dawn, a locket of golden stream unfurled
Lies down across the crocus gown, mist lingered once more,
While nigh a symphony clambers ebony white upon lace,
Her frost-lily hemstitch of soul doth clothe us two whole.
After:
O, vanguard bloom, wilt thou nourish the dew this day?
Thy touch will cleave unto her soul with steadied hands
Each sapphire strand entranced by silver filigree strains
That resound with the descending drops of tenderness.
Sylph ethereal and sycamore memory ‘neath the keel
Of Sky, sifting Meadow’s veil with every fallen petal.
Emerald prayers concentric with descants and reverie
Intertwine, clasping each fold of the vale, end to end.
Her flora and dawn, a locket of golden stream unfurled,
Lie down across the crocus gown, mist lingered once more,
While nigh a symphony clambers ebony, white upon lace,
Her frost-lily hemstitch of soul doth clothe us two whole.