Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/29

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bloom of the mimosa Between your lips and me, Withholds you like a lattice Of golden filigree.

The thorns of the mimosa, Between your breast and me, Are like the blades of vengeance That guard the Eden tree.

The breach in the mimosa, That gives your lips to me, Is like the breath of blessing That sets the spirit free.

The scent of the mimosa, That rains on you and me, Is like a dear remembrance Of bliss that used to be. Perceval Gibbon.