And Cloth-Clad Nymph

This poem explains Beloved's sensuality.

And cloth-clad nymph,
Such beauty’s fair,
Her eyes are dear,
Yet four eyes I see.

She sat on a boulder,
With the moon up on her shoulder,
And nymph that floats through midnight’s
Meadow’s flowers.

Oh beautiful nymph,
My beautiful nymph, my heart!
Yet heart that may not feel.

Light that shines through dark pastures,
Nymph comes to float around.

Now four rose buds she sees,
Along with unusual buzzing bees,
She picked these buds though cruel.

“Now keepeth my soul, Now keepeth my warmth,
My heart, your petal see,
Your smile, your youth, O such godless truths!
But dear rose bud what can it be?”

No rose bud reply,
Too long did die,
Still my nymph now played with love.

Those rose buds she threw away,
And picked some new bouquet,
Now older yet sadder than she.

Now New four bouquets,
But soon thrown away,
Such love in her eyes now lost.

“I am a rose, I am a flower, such love till dawn’s
hour, your glazed brown eyes I love.”
Not bud, not cluster, not again and again,
Thy love shall not walk past ye through.

Young Nymph now sad, then fought, not had,
So clings and clutches thee.
Yet fall to fall
Nymph smiles, such gall,
her hands slowly drawn away,
And as Lord’s light reach the door of May,
So nymph now cold,
Yet rose so warm.

- November 18, 2005