Grand accents fall, I know.
Its cold, very. I know, for you
among the laurel leaves and crumbling flowers.
Wet lash, falling about the ears snow,
sticky and virgin
and nothing to be eaten
and nothing to be done.
And I know, love above the laughter,
queen of thieves, we're not winking
not smiling, nor shrinking in the plashing street ice nor shouting 'Ha!'.
Set me opposite in painted plaster.
We will leer at the larks down below, cry when it rains,
frown when it is cold and lie
all
summer
long.
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