Hush my love; cease your sad autumn
weeping,
Your beauties I´ll gather, in my harvest of
reaping,
The cherries of your cheeks & sweet
berried lips,
Your teardrops the dew, from where I take
sips.
I shall kiss the plum eyelids, of your
olivine eyes,
I´ll gather wheat-gold hair, from nape
where it lies,
I shall touch your cheek, of sweet peaches
& cream,
I´ll sup your kisses of wine, running in
red streams.
I shall stroke your round knee, so
hazel-nut smooth,
The honey of your being, I´ll quaff from
your grooves,
In autumn of our love, before the mist,
snow & rain,
I´ll gather in my arms, all your grape, sheaf
& grain.
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