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Come to me as the dipping white rose does
When I pass too close its thorny sisters,
Kissing my cheek; or nodding daffodil
That sometimes leans in wind-rhyming cluster
To alter my advance; or sweeter still,
From sweeping arms of lavender up-thrust
To press a fingertip that mine becomes;
The dipping dove that hovers, come to me!
Or come to me as any privileged sight
The daily mediocrity sustains,
And prove the worth of all in my selection,
For life a reciprocity maintains,
Beholder and beheld share equal light:
So come to me, in love's sweet predilection! |
