Opals (Custance)/Autumn Night
Autumn Night
Against the earth's hot brow the night has pressedCool dusky lips to kiss her care away;The moon a bow of silver in the westHolds all the brooding dragon-clouds at bay:
A luminous mist is drawn across the park,The trees, with leaves new-fallen about their roots,Loom strange and sullen in the shimmering dark,The hedges glimmer vaguely with wild fruits.
But far more fair than any world without,This golden room fire-glinted glooms and glows, Where, silken robed, you sit with pensive pout,And pluck forth scentful petals from a rose!
You, with your languid face and lily hands,And loosened hair low tumbled in your neck—Where, freed from ruffled coil rust-coloured strandsCunningly curled, your skin's fine fairness fleck!
How pale your cheek beside that pink rose pressedPettishly where your own blood roses sleep—So faintly flushed your lips curl back caressedBy tongues of orange light that towards you leap. . . .