Literature
Sonnet V: The Glade
The drowsy blossoms, white and unaware
Hung upon the heavy branches heady
As the sweetness in the air, and with me
You walked beneath those hawthorns full and fair.
I now say that I love without compare
That grove with flowers strung on ev'ry tree
That path we took, so dark and so lovely
I did not know how much I'd love it there.
But I cannot think how to find such shade
Without your hand entwined and warming mine
And now it seems our dreams we once had made
Have we, afraid, now all of them betrayed.
Yet if you'll take the berries; I the wine
Again we'll find each other in that glade.