25.06.2007, 11:40
What is my lady like? thou fain wouldst know.
A rosy chaplet of fresh apple-bloom,
Bound with blue ribbon, lying on the snow.
What is my lady like? The violet gloom
Of evening, with deep orange like below.
She’s like the noonday smell of a pine wood;
She’s like the sounding of a stormy flood;
She’s like a mountain-top high in the skies,
To which the day its earliest light doth lend;
She’s like a plessant path without an end;
Like a strange secret, and a sweet surprise;
Like a sharp axe of doom, wreathed with blush-roses.
A cascet full of gems whose key one loses;
Like a hard saying, wonderful and wise.
A rosy chaplet of fresh apple-bloom,
Bound with blue ribbon, lying on the snow.
What is my lady like? The violet gloom
Of evening, with deep orange like below.
She’s like the noonday smell of a pine wood;
She’s like the sounding of a stormy flood;
She’s like a mountain-top high in the skies,
To which the day its earliest light doth lend;
She’s like a plessant path without an end;
Like a strange secret, and a sweet surprise;
Like a sharp axe of doom, wreathed with blush-roses.
A cascet full of gems whose key one loses;
Like a hard saying, wonderful and wise.