Sometimes the moment lies
And sometimes with lament' eyes;
Sometimes a wolf bears its teeth
And a fire’s like a romance be.
Sometimes these moments cast away
That time so catches life to say,
Sometimes love's rosebuds do not grow
For lovely rose seedlings grew too slow.
For love like growing roses rest,
In chlorine and sometimes zest,
These reddened shapes seduced and sexed
As morphine and most-times vexed!
Oh, my love by sweet garden’s light,
Thou but hold this stem e’en by fright,
That livened stamens rise to treat,
Thy inner pistil as thighs unmeet.
And dost thou gentle fires burn,
Alas! Fresh that sponge red-fluids churn,
‘gainst ravish, that thou may not begat,
Permit this throb betwixt our love’s contract.
Sometimes the moment truthful dies,
And sometimes with whitened lies,
Sometimes a leopard rears a beast,
And through the mud for one at least.
Sometimes a red-garden grows,
But youth passes too swiftly too denote
Thy beauty’s spring-shape into autumn,
For love grows sometimes in the bottom.
