I THINK THIS POEM OF THE FINEST POEMS Les Amours de Cassandre: XX I’d like to turn the deepest of yellows, Falling, drop by drop, in a golden shower, Into her lap, my lovely Cassandra’s, As sleep is stealing over her brow. Then I’d like to be a bull, white as snow, Transforming myself, for carrying her, In April, when, through meadows so tender, A flower, through a thousand flowers, she goes. I’d like then, the better to ease my pain, To be Narcissus, and she a fountain, Where I’d swim all night, at my pleasure: And I’d like it, too, if Aurora would never Light day again, or wake me ever, So that this night could last forever.
Posted on: Sat, 26 Oct 2013 16:32:31 +0000
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