Color

Spring Reminiscence

“My sweet,” you sang, and, “Sweet,” I sang,

And sweet we sang together,

Glad to be young as the world was young,

Two colts too strong for a tether.

Shall ever a spring be like that spring,
  Or apple blossoms as white;
Or ever clover smell like the clover
  We lay upon that night?

Shall ever your hand lie in my hand,
  Pulsing to it, I wonder;
Or have the gods, being jealous gods,
  Envied us our thunder?