Perhaps that I could find you in a Sacred Wood, Once there, a flag to plant, and dub Nowhere, Elsewise by caterpillar crowds no doubt it would Be sooner overrun than could I glimpse you there Washing in purple water your grey dappled hair, Until the bath wherein I found you should Become the firmament of worlds unmade, Or splash you me, and me become a deer Through undergrowth of rootless stars pursued By hounds more black than soot upon a forge. Turn the white book to the subsequent page, And happy lovers I and you, the Sacred Wood More faerie-bower than the inward air, And scent ubiquitous of yellow blood, For huntress, you are sharp of wit and fair As the black flowers of the Sacred Wood Whose dew clings to the thornless stems of stars, Like mountain cherries in the high courtyard Of a reclusive antlered god.
I really love this
I am very glad of it!