Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/135

Rh Her pomp of glorious hues, Her revelries of ripeness, her kind smile Her songs, her peeping faces, lure awhile With symbol-clues.

The mystery she holds For him, inveterately he strains to see, And sight of his obtuseness is the key Among those folds.

He may entreat, aspire, He may despair, and she has never heed. She drinking his warm sweat will soothe his need, Not his desire.