When Autumn's come crisp
But not yet riots
In crimsoned gold, then quiets
This soul from fret and puff
And helter-skelter workaday.
While of the land: those
rocky thrusts and juts below
Which shape what's seen above,
The violent underworld unknown:
Chill granite, like October's chill,
Is merely truth,
So quieting in a different way.
Until...what sprite is this?
And what mean you? | For it's a moment past
No sprite was here
But now you bide in my plain sight.
Unlike the sisters of your race
Which dart and peek and flirt and fly
To tempt a mortal's fears and wants,
Sans by-my-leave you stand and stay.
Then what compels thee, otherish one?
What unseen bedrock shapes the shape I see
That you shall stand and look
Where others glance and flee?
But why ask you? Instead I ask myself the same.
And think the answer's like thy beauty:
Right before my face. |
