Liza, go steep your long white hands
In the cool waters of that spring
Which bubbles up through shiny sands
The colour of a wild-dove's wing.
Dabble your hands, and steep them well
Until those nails are pearly white
Now rosier than a laurel bell;
Then come to me at candlelight.
Lay your cold hands across my brows,
And I shall sleep, and I shall dream
Of silver-pointed willow boughs
Dipping their fingers in a stream.
Spring Pastoral
Elinor Morton Wylie
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Poem topics: dream, silver, sleep, spring, wing, wild, long, cold, dove, colour, cool, stream, white, steep, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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