You are the light, I the substance
Stirred as a dormant seed,
From my long contentment
As poppies rise from soil disturbed
On a steep embankment
A sudden mass of dancing flames
Swelling like a vast choir
Of joyful release, and love.
But it was brief, my love, too brief,
As is the poppy’s life,
And yet your light still lingers in my soul,
And as the poet sang in native Provencal
Negus vezur mon bel pensar no val.
In The Third Heaven
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