BEAUTY

Every star is white, my love.
Let the weeping moonlight
Dress your mane from above,
In the soft and sacred night.
Oh, my only fairest love,
Let us walk through the tall, summer grass,
And feel its dew upon our feet,
And when our raptures pass
Let us in ecstasy astonished greet
One another's passionate gaze
Which speaks of the solemn, fantastic field
Where we rove, as your heart is all ablaze
In the fervent fever that our kisses yield.
Let us transcend the bonds
Of the shaded earth and the twilit sky,
And ascend in our ardor, eye to eye,
Above the lapping waters, and the bending fronds.

John Lars Zwerenz