A VIRGINAL
by: Ezra Pound (1885-1972)
- O, no! Go from me. I have left
her lately.
- I will not spoil my sheath with lesser brightness,
- For my surrounding air hath a new lightness;
- Slight are her arms, yet they have bound me straitly
- And left me cloaked as with a gauze of æther;
- As with sweet leaves; as with subtle clearness.
- Oh, I have picked up magic in her nearness
- To sheathe me half in half the things that sheathe her.
- No, no! Go from me. I have still the flavour,
- Soft as spring wind that's come from birchen bowers.
- Green come the shoots, aye April in the branches,
- As winter's wound with her sleight hand she staunches,
- Hath of the trees a likeness of the savour:
- As white their bark, so white this lady's hours.
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