VIII. Strings in Unison
Adagios bring her; the blazing bow
Sculpts her warm from cold and cloven air,
Her hands and heart to hold, her harpstring hair
To sing lingering slow; her nights to know,
Her curves to softer sink than sliding shows,
Her eyes the notes of darker dreams that fell
Like hurtling angels to some hotter Hell;
Strum me her stars, pluck her peachblossom nose,
The orchestral smile that roundly breaks the world
On its cusp; the fond, fawny fringe arrayed
With yawning, drowsy days that in her arms unfurled
For me. The earth and I, the air and sky attend
Her lilting life, her spirit’s serenade,
And lull with new-learned songs the sleep of her day’s end.