Untitled Poem III

Let every heart give way and see
What love and truth should seek to be;
With passioned voice, the budding yew
That brings its grace in gleaming dew.
Within the orchard bathed with light
The grass adorns each tranquil sight;
Such lithe steps weave each grass-blade through -
This moonlit shade the shade of you.
My love, my dear, my supple sprite,
Who leaps and sings beneath moonlight;
You grace with lips the eyes that care
And let us sleep together there.